Sing a song of finality
Of great endings
Of cataclysm
Of extinction
Of sterile pure nothing
Let your ballad be played on instruments of destruction
Your choir be the harmonising screams of death
Within the aria, write an epic of agony
Let beginnings squirm beneath the weight of your denouement.
O great sky
How I would blow out your eyes
How I would drain your colour
And turn your countenance to the void
O great Warrior
Giver of all life, sustainer of essence
Custodian of filth
How great your death song will be
It will be a great song of finality
Of absence
Of nullity
Of oblivion
Of your greatest design
