They glide across ancient lands, leaving obscure cross shadows that cross miles of deserted plain. The fire burning deep within whom dare to think the thinkers thought. All who are left wander away from the pack, only to lead a criminal poet’s life, left for dead, dead at mind, dead at heart?

The shattered earth is left for the night crawlers. Peace has been ripped up from something so pure, so subtle, the natural taste of neutral ground. The balance is gone, gone with all those who dare to stand to God of myth. All those perish on stone steps, leading to a newly built church.

Side by side with Belial’s fiends, they writhe for me, leaving me opium based and queer. Sight, shows dazed, beings of orient nature, all strung up on splintered boards

Beasts from Thessaly, call me upon ancient grounds, for destruction in a blasphemous act of passion, leaving all faith in ruin for the faithful to clear up.