Queen of night, imbibe my soul;
This wretched flesh loosens its hold.
Feed your spite, my life is sold.
My death reflects the truth you've told:
“Wrath be brought across the way from traitors made to separate;
Lasting, wrought of crosses made
to drape their face upon a grave.”

I come to know regret as I start to grow cold;
In throes, my eyes are misted as the trees.
Matron of blackness, please be swift as you take hold,
I hope my nourished mistress has been pleased.

“Wretch beneath my broken wings, I will find my strength
and raze the skies with their beating.
Step beneath the shadow cast, kneel and write the page;
open my eyes, now, and free me.”

In eager obedience, carefully I shape
symbols which call forth the night,
haunted by masochists, forever in wait
to ruin their minds through prying eyes.

Morning crawls, now, toward a grave absconded in the rift;
the ash of its memory enshrouded by my gift.
The putrid stench of resurrected hatred wrapped in skin
Inflicted on the aarth again whence her soul was adrift.

I reap the fruit of her poisonous truth,
and feel the blood run down my chin.
I rape the land that its life may be hence cast
to a place I cannot live.

“Go forth and speak my name, mark who falls in place
and paint the walls with the others.
Stoke the fires that burn away all that may maintain
the memories of their brothers.”

In deepest devotion, I will stake my claim
at the right hand of my mother.
She, spiller of blood oceans,
the wraith Of long subdued hate, rediscovered.

Mourning calls, now; behold the slaughter wreaked by my own hands,
the last of my brethren are strewn about the land,
convinced of their safety until darkness advanced.
The hubris of the pious goaded countless other damned.

I've taken heed of the virulent greed
demonstrated by your gods.
Soon, I will speak as the mouth of the queen
is concealed within the fog.

Queen of night, imbibe my soul;
this wretched flesh loosens its hold.
Feed your spite, my life is sold.
My death reflects the truth you've told:

“Wrath be brought across the way
from traitors made to separate;
lasting, wrought of crosses made
to drape their face upon a grave.”