From the ashes of past
’till the shadow hereafter,
the wrath of my soul shall breathe you terror.
I will laugh and conjure the fire of the nameless stars
as I relish your agony and frolic in this crown of tar.
You let me down, little bird of the sky —
bound me to a life in silence.
You stringed my limbs as far as it could have lasted.
There’s nowhere to go in this world forlorn
for one who takes not the spear of divine role.
Caged in your own disaster,
you will yearn for my poison dagger.
The winds will deny your voice and swallow your words
as penitence for your narrow-mindness.
Give me your tears, Asinine of Unsuited Matters!
I shall drink the nectar transmuted in the entrails of your delightful mother,
and free the world as I drag you crestfallen.