---

Oh, how bitter chill it was,
Waking the maid as it came
To her thought's strange sister,
Debauching its way to her bed

As if the Norns have woven a curse
In her destiny 's ropes,
Garrottes that strangle her soul
But merely arouse her flesh

So, the blithe spirit rests here not
But decay s and reeks of rot
Tainted by her dream in heal
As she fingers under the sheets

Besotted,
She whetted,
Her habit
She oft ripped
And as she wept
It silently crept
Between her legs
Like a serpent and tongued

And, every orifice sweetly in glee
Join her ill-fated revelry,
This ravenous, self-pleasing fiend
In her dream saw such secrecies:

Imagine a scene, most obscene - of pure blasphemy
The fall of the idols, before her eyes - hopeless signs
The worlds are ablaze with a murderous haze - a sickly fate
The decadent stench of the burning flesh, of the ancient ones

Such a wondrous demise
To those whom the unbound Loki detests and despises

The ghostly clouds are finally rent - bleeding the blood of men
A star-dogged moon illuminates the doom - the swaying noose
The burden of end forever descend on this world again,
In this carnal garden it is so dark and cold...

And those woods, yonder,
Like some gaunt voyeur
Grinds 'neath the rind,
'Neath the menstrual, bleeding skies,
Pants against her frosty pane,
Licking the rime with zest,
Deflowering the forest
In a strange, seductive pain

And. down their lifeless, slutty limbs
Descended hungering Nymphs
, Down on all fours
To go down on her by force

Blindly drunk on such lust
And sweetly arousing disgust,
This Libertina in fever embraced
The new-found decadence in her
Their softly timbered fingers
In sweet, entailing,
Tear asunder the sheets
And penetrate the maiden's dream

---

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