“Arise, all vessels which still require rest,
Your mortality's a burden I've grown to regret.
While you slept, the undead silently, bravely continued to tread.
Swift domination is what I expect if we are to raze all the diocese.
My satisfaction rests on severed heads served to me with their communion bread.”

“Status Civitatis Vaticanæ, Upon you we will prey;
Daemon irrepit allicit cor, And you will see my power restored.”

As tendrils of a grim and unfamiliar will take hold now where once my own mind was still,
I'm beckoned to march until I've made my kill guided by the stench of the deserter's wilt.
The petals of their life and triumph are spilt one at a time, rose slowly unbuilt,
And the soil saturated with their rotting filth gives way to footsteps under stomachs now filled.
Breathe in the haze, stomach the fetor of air so rife with our brethren's decay,
The matriarch's hate embraced as our leader.

The pack marches beneath the film of black cast by the Night Mother
as she stretches across the sky, the blood moon's light sieved from her.
She encroaches on the rivers sanctified by those long dead,
and they boil and they dry up in light of the presence of she who exhales death.

“Status Civitatis Vaticanæ, Upon you we will prey;
Daemon irrepit allicit cor, And you will see my power restored.”

With ravenous hunger I am now consumed, such vigor unknown 'til the rise of this moon.
With old gods now entombed, we will be kings as our queen is groomed.
With all that our doctrine demands we rebuke, I yearn for the priests and those they've abused.
Their heads will be brought if so my queen may choose, and I will bear witness to their doom.

“Status Civitatis Vaticanæ, Upon you we will prey;
Daemon irrepit allicit cor, And you will see my power restored.”