Pretenders To The Throne Of I
Confined And Diseased
In A Life So Habitual
Epitome Of My Creation
Weak Attempts In A World
You Could Never Grasp
I Demand The Blood
Drained From The Bodies Of The
Ones
Who Deceived Me
I Demand The Flesh
Stripped Off The Bones
And Burned Of Its Sanctity
I Demand The Soul
Cast Into Fires
Of An Everlasting Hell
I Demand The Memory
Erased From My Mind
And Never To Return
Chaos In The Form Of Order
Sygian Visions
With The Ability To Crush
Heresy Denies The Threshold