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Her throat labours at the work of felate

A ghoul has stepped through her skin and into God

And in this place she is bound to her God

Bride of the rotting world, made by God

Awful and beautiful to her eyes

Because here, here love ends, here love dies

Come the arrival of the God of all flies

Consumed by her own slow-burn, bitter fire

Utter, utter the words of her mind

Mother, mother to all mankind

Utter, utter all men will fall

Day by day she steps closer to her crucifixion

Fair ribbons of scarlet dance from her wrists

Hard by the gates to hell, her crucifixion

From her own sound creation

She is brought into being