Eyes half shut, bloodshot senses
Souls of the population
You hopelessly envisage light
I am the crimson lord
Unspoken, unwritten master of unyielding, undying anguish
Suffer along the path of your choosing

When the shit turns to tar and the tar turns to ash, the dust will rise in the dead heavens
Skin and bone turn to rust
My swollen body encased in fumes
Be my servant
Avert your face when you sacrifice to me

Evil has a face and it is cast on every corner of the embered skies
The mothers and their sons all weep as I look them down into their eyes
You can scream and you can cry the stench of flesh is now alive
The forgotten path of doom, inhale this smog like the sick infant you always were, tell me this is the face you would prefer
Your yearning is heard against the tombstones of every single living being
I will embrace you and turn your apathy into an altar for the incumbent

Soulless child, your eyes dart across the expansive plains
Do you see my shadow?
Do you think there is life within me?
I am your truth, your omen, an oasis of fire in a desert of your ashen melancholy