I was found in the grave. In white dust and rush, in the green light of candles, my whisper will be a legend. Do you read these scars? Are you dead? There will be a story in this, in ancient words, in mystical whispers - be... and I will be in the dark - in the eating dark.
Absorbed in the unnamed, in the mountains were my words - now they are in flesh and suffering.
And I'm dancing on the flames! On words torn from dead lips. I am the kiss of death and its blade.
Your scars will be my honor... and I am your redemption! I hate your mornings! I hate your existence!
O fallen corpses of slaves, your dream is your nightmare.
I am the one who destroys and awakens - I am awake in the flames of dead suns!
In the black light of horror - I haunt your beings, being and passing. In nothingness is humanity created, in death is your destiny! O human carcasses, tremble in your spectacle of tragedy! Your blood will bless the holy altars! By the fire of rebirth - let your bodies fry in the sufferings of eons!
I hate! And I love your senselessness of existence - ...she builds! - ...she gives energy! To devour universes! Your souls are empty anyway - have always been. And I will cover your graves with my scream, a scream known only to fallen angels - Oh yes! You will rot in the vomit of your folly!
Be - but are you still?
O fallen corpses of slaves, your dream is your nightmare.
