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“‘Neath this cold winter eventide, this chamber of which hell had unfurled into grew searing as though ‘twas end days of summer. Mephistopheles sauntered toward Faust bearing no other item barring a scroll of ashen parchment. Wouldst thou barter intrinsic shrine in place of twenty-four years in sin?”

Given fate has laboured upon my hate

Wouldst thou stride in the pride of this life?

Deceased remenissions heretofore presently in mind

Novabrain to decline this perdition’s incline

At Satan’s behest, the right tries to stop thee right

Blackest ink seeps not into parchment but in thee soul

Hear not suddenly, forthcoming orchestra

Sound thou’s binding of life’s eternal wake

The growl of hell rips into his lifeblood

Spilling ruby fluid of being

Drawing breath as icy as December moon

Snowfall will not comfort thought now

Behold this naked judgement

Come Faust, mark thine parchment now

I take form now

Presented upon the Earth

Serving Lucifer

Diseased since fucking birth

Afeared of my own damned will

Terror dawns as I praey for the kill

I bring forth such hate

Apollyon, Abaddon

Such an ill sake

Perform all your last rites

Blood shed yet to comes

Goodbye goodnights

Christentice their faith shall break

Appease thy wits

Twenty-four years shall end swift

To cut my arm open bled

Draw forth the sealing remedy

December moon thine shine bright

Descend to equal consciousness

Join me in quest to find

Answers of creation

(so difficult to find)

The answer, phalliception

(so hard, sublime)

Faustus, look upon the crimson seal

You’ve done no harm? Only made a deal

Spirit of inquiry art thou detestly fiend

Rampant joy, due to fantasy

Is this just? I’ve bound my soul

In the world of man, none be so bold

I’ve submitted my crimes for a respite

Beauty shall wilt before my very eyes

Covens of witches beseech for this gift

Judgement of thought acts as though it were mist

Come now dear Faust, I implore you to sign

Some twenty-four years in hell thine shall come dine