Well I’ll tell you straight!
That my will bleeds iron and cold.
Well I’ll tell you straight up!

My weapon is brandished,
My will is pure.

My desire is to dissect thee slowly;
A blood soaked hart
To eject sweet death all over me
Beyond the parapet of
Ought readjusted schematics,
The impunity of unwrought, obstinate
Tissue pedantics.

*************

Straight-laced to the beast
Defeated on the cross:
Thy life by my eyes scries lost!

Be strong my chosen one.
Spite the rising sun.

The aides of ‘Paar-Kraat
Laud thee, oh Zuul!
The ancient rites
Laud thee oh Zuul!

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