And there I marked him
the sorrowed one
an aura disfigured from a graven light
mystic and solemn were the verses spoke
an allegiance to grief and not the cries of war
He stared into me with an eye from beyond
a parting gift from the monarch gone
To still the howling
from the cavern below
the carrion awaits for the sign to be reborn


And he be slain
yet no blood be spilt
a trifle grievance from a child in pain
his oath to the kingdom not a bewitching sight
not blinded by the aversion he vowed
And my deliverer
he be the spiritus one
my secret is sealed with a serpent of hate
And you I beckon
spell the ways to the grave
from the hearts of men to the cesspool of the depraved.

I am bound to my liege the amain of his will evokes doubt
Their kingdom rests upon the lineage of a sole ménage
If no dagger be raised ruination must gestate from within
And when their blood be ripe we will suckle from their veins.

Upon your knees, begging mercy from God, whose divinity you strive to desecrate, and you taunt him still, with intent blaspheme, I mock his contempt, the Acherontic rivers will cleanse the irreverent.

Whisper sanction, to my stake in that land, and you I´ll liberate, shelter you from the lustful of idol death.
by the power in me by the Holy See, grant you a plenary indulgence and remission of all of your sins.
So, speak!