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Fire is dancing on the walls of the capitol

Frescoes of the saints are breathing life

Dust flies down from folio and whirls in dance

Everything is waiting for his coming...

And so he comes from the gloomy cellars of church

He's wearing his his cassock and starting to pray

But words are not enough to express the respect

He rises from his knees and creeps back to his lair

While coming down the stairs he hums motive from liturgy

Finally he came to place and opens putrid door

He enters his realm and lights the candles

And slowly he starts to examine his fold

Here in the deepest cellar of the cathedral in the rusty cages are closed

Fear children and women that he had caught late at night after his prays

They're weak and they're stinking

They cry and they hope

But no one can hear their call

Patriarch gets naked and takes his censer

He dances and touching his fallos

At last with sensual moan he cums on the floor

And a smile slowly disappears from his lips

He waits more, much more pleasure

He blows out the candles, opens the cage and the mirk petrified on his face...