Ridden to the swirling pit, christened in the Mara’s spit. Into deeper realms of restlessness stirred, compelled to fall in line.
Witch-moon, upon your creek of blood afloat, guide the stricken through the night, that, from the womb of Babalon, they may spring to greet the dawn.
Brooding heavy upon your chest, I will attend you as a nocturnal fury. While homunculi flit between the borders of the realms. The Kephra arise.
The presence looming through the thick veils of twilight, solemn figures in shreds of carrion clad. It is the jackal god in dual form who at the threshold stands. Hazards warded off by the sentinel’s blade. The lantern of the herald illuminates the path. Send the vapours of the calm streams aloft in churning, breaching, breaking waves.
A hollow cry rends the parish of the mind and robs the eyes of sight. Wretched, feral, revelers alien.
Fade into ferocious colours as the breath of life ignites.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
