On the plane of existence, the arcane grandeur of the sorcerer’s dreams mimics divinity. Watch how the currents change and the flora bends to his words, a magnificent mockery.
Skin-deep is the influence of man and capricious are his goals. His exploits are vanity. The hubris of man is his strive to alter and his lack of willingness to adapt.
Baboon: Whose words can be exalted when words are of the soil? Far from celestial splendour, mere illusions are all that you can hope to beget.
Unfit to achieve the sacred diction, the eloquence of the gods. The tendrils of mundanity bar shut the hidden regions of the mind.
Baboon: Each syllable uttered further swallows up your sanctity. Syphoning your grasp on the world.
Each exhalation, a step further from the truth, a step deeper into the maze. Great harbinger of the word, wake the grace of our souls, shatter the walls around our minds. By the light of the lantern, the serpent coiled staff points towards the hills.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
