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Contentious life, its forebearer,
And failure is the trodden orphan.
Gladiolus!

Exhausted of all recognizance,
Enduring all the tribulation.
To whom must we kneel to be free of this realm?
What can we be, if not reduced?
Ravished by the laws of soulless kin.
To whom must we kneel to be free of this realm?

Warm embrace of thine orphan,
Becoming rigid and hypothermic.
Thine carcass slack, I hurl the child upon my back,
Into the ever-realm, I seek its baseless resurrection.

Orphan rescind.

Nowhere will I find repentance for this.
Without any concept of bliss,
Continuance of miscreance.
Mephistophelean!

I bathe in the fountains of guilt,
A wholly perpetual passion to kill.
What must I do to beseech exoneration?
What must I do to be free of this realm?

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