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Slave / Awake in the tumult / Bray / Bold for a lost sun / Here / In the gut of the tempest
Chains / Wither away / And in this incarnation / The storm has sent it forth a / Slave
To boil back with a dark love / Rage / In ceaseless cycle / A mantra / To bide into curses
And break open / On the caustic current / And in its deconstruction / The storm has fashioned it
A son - Quake, stoop / Such things hang about his shoulders / Shimmers of Perdition

caught between brush strokes and the oil / Shake, Grow / Feed upon your burdens
For, beneath that fragile colour / A pearl in the friction slows

Wave - you vapours / You refracted, wandering lights / mere tears in a canvas of saturating blight

His core, this Caliban, of barren rooms sewn up / And stare afflicted by / some greatness in decay
And I would be burned / (I would be burned) / By the flails behind / (flails behind)
Those boiling windows / Where a ravenous spawn (ravenous spawn) / forsakes its skin
(forsakes its skin)
in silent struggle / And where all light tapers out / and a dark horizon is spread / Fevers of his fierce design
in sable tremors tread / In blasted cacophony / In will out of agony wrought / He thrives in the torment
His inimical whispers like birds / Raise in the eye / Ravenous spawn / Forsakes its skin

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