---

Procession of the faceless.
He waits for them
in the depths of a frightening cave.
The voice of the voiceless.
A sinister chant,
a tongueless murmur,
marching into the infite obscurity
of a thousand corridors of stone.
He waits for them.
They are gathered,
they are prepared
for the ritual.

Invocate the formless flesh
of a forgotten fallen ancient god,
He rises now, He exists another time
after aeons of solitude, after aeons of dark.
They are prepared
He waits for them...
For the ritual.

[Murmurs]
“Ceremonial hymns
for the fallen entity, now reborn
resurrected to uncreate.
He waits for them,
they are gathered,
they are prepared
for the ritual.
A ritual of blood,
macabre celebration
of flesh, of torture,
infite power of the grotesque one.
Triumph of the ugliness
above the fragile insignificant beauty.”

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