I drank a gobblet of fire...
I cut out the prophets tounge...
But still, the sun refused to move.
I tore a hole in the web o sanity...
The very fabric of life itself...
Bur still, this flesh refised to burn.
What a humble vision!
To forever dwell by the grace of the sun...
I gathered the moon and the stars...
In my little pouch of planets...
The renesance of astral flesh
Dripping anf drewling with universla thirst...
Equelebrium going under...
In such an idle state of death.
Sowing the seeds of a new dimension...
I am the conqueror in his petty paradise...
Spinning around in a garden of lush blooming death.
Point at the sun, and I will be there...
And the angels, scattered and bleeding...
Will be the fundament of my empire...
And admidst all this forlorn beauty...
... I still laughed at the end.
