Entranced by the mists of disease
we rest our eyes upon the Monarch,
the apparent true claimant of the crown.
Sowing grains of comprehension…
that an unworthy heir is to reign beyond the grave
– a possible tale forgotten and buried?
A long lost wisdom of treachery?
A tablet ripped from our prophecy?
…and in dismissive awe we cross the ragged floor
Vile visions glare in the sooted flare from torch after torch
Past fields of futile dreams went our voyage to seek
the wreath of wither and to reap the seeds of filth
Rumours led us hither but all we glean
are visions of tongues on skin, in this moulted depiction of sin
Doors open and heavy shadows are cast upon our figures
as we adhere to the alluring hands of The Great Depressor
We behold the crown and our ignorance fades
in the glistening reflection of a lost sunray
No lies fool our eyes as they gaze upon The Great Devourer
– the true lion of our sun!
The volatile flicker drowns in the shade
Encapsuled in a jewel the sun’s lost ray fades
Down, our Monarch leads the way
Another set of slanting corridors coil behind the gate
Doors etched by panicked nails, in vain!
For there’s no surpassing the ways of fate
…and we are led past a blown torch,
into a chamber with sooted, scorched floors
stained by deeds unknown
Rows of catafalques…
Shackles…
Walls hollowed…
A reek of womb…
Our intentions of cleansing put us in debt to oblivion,
mistaken for wisdom to own…
…and in dismissive awe we cross the ragged floor
Vile visions shared with The Depraved Heir
As fuel for the engorged entities of fleshrot;
a journey into tragedy;
to pollute the futile breeding of life
Life is futile
Always we would seek the meaning, in vain,
for life was futile…
Vile visions will be our last
As life stays futile we’ll wither in infinite nihility