Awaken in the name of the tyrant I am
gold-eyed and inhuman in look
windows to the soul they say
and mine so altered
that the mirror does not tell me whose my face is
I am the name of 'self-erasure', and the knife
By book and blade
the thong around my leg as I fly
leads me always back to one place
the rock that holds me fast
and the river flows by me
this ash that marks my face in the cross
is from my family
the dust of the bones I exposed
it does not wash away
I feel I drown in the core of them
in the river's sacrament I feel only remorse
that their blood gave rise to my veins
This blood, it is on the hands of my enemies
and mine
I carve into myself the symbol inverted
from ages past
daubed with blood from my ribs
it will sing in the marrow of me
the curse that I embrace forever
I hold it close to the aching in my chest
the pyre that marked the ending of my name
I arise from it
the scent of incense forever clogged with the taint of flesh
I hate you
the winds that carry your ashes
blow through me in a chill
quite unlike the fire that ended you
for him a warning
I am not the man I seem
perhaps not a man at all
wax and silver
blood and gold will be the end of him
the mark of the damned in my breast
damn him; this kiss, this sacrilege
I carry your memory as my cross
and with the noose of my allies
I will crucify.
