Beyond the Stage where we all meet,
the Mirages of Children Kings,
Sin Omnium breeds Reveries:
All must be dead,
the Windmen's lurid Masks & hellish Laughters.
Greed Generation Zero, Wheels in the World Machine,
Child Emperors 2000 countlessly march to the Katalypse.
When Suicide turns Shots & Showers golden in Siren Seas
and swallowing until we sleep - Strangulation Alpha
With thirteen Wounds in every Hand
we creep the Circles for our Lord,
a burning Star for each to gnaw,
All must be dead
except the Forests of the strangled Necks.
And through Year-Millions we stray Million Manias,
a Cannibal-Lighthouse was built of our Nights.
And it drags us towards sweet Assnakements
through deep Gullet-Tunnels with Dark on each Side.
Fornever will a Word lament,
nor any Deeds our Feelings show,
since somewhen Times are sure to come
when all is dead,
in all Directions throttled to the Ground.
