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You are prophets of your own demise;
As the vastness of hell is expanding in every direction
And you follow it with empty hearts, leaving naught unexplored
Even against your pretended will
And lo! your child-hood fear is the redeemer of the present!

The pulse of death is indifferent to all
Inhuman, faceless, relentless
And you seek freedom therin
In a self-imagined importance
Kneeling with heads bowed to infertile soil

Still you chose to bathe in the excrements of history
In the simplicity of hunger, sleep and pro-creation

In blindness you deemed Satan comprehensible -
Still you can not even see the smallest grain of sand,
In this desert of otherworldly misgrowth
Where we erase our names from the book of life
And let our voices fade into nothingness
For what could ever be more beautiful
Than the abandonment of it all -
In a self-chosen bestial madness?

You have known it, but stood in denial of your most vile desires!

The construction of the "I" becomes laughable
This hunger transcends every human impulse
A ray of light in another world raises a shadow in ours
And what difference does wisdom or folly make
When not even one language is discernible in Babel?
A multitude of voices
Angelic, demonic, human, and the silent ones
Unbidden you stand against in the terrible mess of sound

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