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Flagellating your pale cold skin, |
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I desire for more |
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Beholding those deep bleeding wounds |
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I wish I could return you back to life |
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To start my feast all over again... |
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Whip bleeds my own skin now fiercefully |
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I expect the pain, although it passes away |
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Leaving me in utter bitterness |
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I await the night, when |
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I may spread my wings |
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And reach the skies far above the wooden pantheon... |
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I await the night and the storm it brings |
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To conquer these lands of pride and joy |
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To blacken their souls and deprave their minds... |
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I'm true and faithful servant of those |
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Who came here long before the earth was born |
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I'm their messanger and archangel |
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Condemned to dwell behind these burning gates |
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Of sullen silent spheres... |
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I know not if |
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I'm a vital being |
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But it should be so, since |
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I scent the honied blood of females... |
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I lick them, rape them, slaughter them... |
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Wretched pathetic humans... |
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I make them weep, make them shriek and ask forgiveness... |
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Seeking delight in pain and suffering, oh so sweet... [whisper:] |
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When sun sets beyond the snowy mountains |
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And wolves howl at the fullmoon |
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Crescent skies tumble into glowing shade of agony, |
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So bizarre... |
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The shadowy inmaterial spectres invite me |
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To join their exalted hellish dance |
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The night blackens with storm, breed by |
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Ancient Ones |
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And I lust for their return more than ever before... |
