Amidst the dark, lonely night.
After those terrible, worrisome years.
The angel stood without light.
Beside failures, and swallowed by fear.
Alone in the cinema, to see.
People hanging by ropes in tears.
And the orchestra died pitifully.
Music dies inside the ears.
Rhymes, in front of all that die.
Whisper and speak low.
Together we whither and fly.
Puppet master died only to come and go.
A night of great shapeless things.
Shape shifting into demons that fly and roam.
Soaring with dark alloy plated wings.
Everyone behold!
Devastating, drastic scenery--this to abhor.
From the madness it spawned.
While the maestro screamed evermore.
A crowd panicked in the same lot.
Inside a hovel that immediately closes in.
Holding tightly like a knot.
Holding in the insanity, and the evolving within.
Sin and macabre have become the plot.
What was beheld inside the dark shroud.
Faith in evil, again renewed!
A bloody larva that writhes from inside out.
Bringing forth multitude!
It writhes!--It thrives!--through mortal pain.
No more mimes, no food.
And the demons ridicule it’s poison fangs.
In parasitic cysts imbued.
On--on are the lights--on all!
Shape shifting back into form.
Be uncertain, and be appalled.
What comes from within the dark, violent storm.
Morbid, dark angels. Deadly soldiers they stand.
Defied, mutilated worm.
The play is over, just like “Manâ€.
Your hero. I conquered the worm.
