There is a season which died then manifested,
Then forced its hand on heads that disbelieved.
The virgin birth becomes the virgin bane.
The shroud she burns is one of mystery.

An amulet adorned her neck like an albatross
An impending doom loomed within her heart
Vicariously partaking in the flesh through fornication
Her vows erased in a precise denouncement

Veneration of the Idol Hircine
She laid there cursed with an inner chaos
A bleak transcendence into eternity's bliss
Where the echoes of triumph no longer exist

Tears grow numb within her eyes
No longer can she cry
The sorrow that drain her from within
Became her only salvation

"¡­and I respond to her as if the dark eclipse hath surrendered to light
Let her dreams be cast down from upon high towards the flickering of a silent lament
Though she fears the awaiting flame she postures no grudge
A mere mortal conjecture hath stemmed life before her
A revelation she hath never sought, though it appears as clear as a reflection
Every passing moment gave the weight of ten thousand years
She suppressed deeply the servitude she hath surrendered
I call to her with immense declaration¡­
A seedy harlot, our whore of condemnation!"


Liar!
Hypocrite!
Be Gone!
Great Deceiver!

Your forked tongue holds no water
Your vengeance holds no ground

She dances with ambiguity
Verbose indoctrinations spill eagerly from her mouth¡­

Sanctuary within tender arms of mankind
Vicious days anew, cast down the betrayers

This hallowed becomes earth becomes irreverent
Our incoherence destroys forever¡­

The end of time, the fall of man, the symphonies of dying lambs, arise from baron throats of care.
The rise of fear, the time of tears, dirges of desolate stares, begin within the saddened caress of blame
The vine of hope, tied tight to choke, the strangled breath of men that spoke, smothered in the time of war.

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