We the putrid who have been to the endless sea of pus

The ash of he who waits behind the bark slowly creeping is overcoming us

Empirical assimilation towards remittance of the rendered facts

Ocean of Orion stimulates the sea of abominable acts

Incur the wrath of he who sleeps beneath the land of unclean mist

Incur the following of the one who waits to catch your wrist

The sending of the man with many names

A garden in your soul for psychiatric mind games

Psychosomatic, physically

I feel the rotting pulse finally taking me

Sordid, heaving

Piercing, feeding

Eye contact

Still breathing

Fester, bleeding

Existence

So fleeting

Crushing pain radiates

From the path I wander

This earth misguided

I hunger for the release

That comes with sacrifice

To home you crawl

To where your children sleep

Too weak to reason

If you feel any hope

It’s because it is my will

Lead, lead I must feed

The broadcast will resume

Spirits in my room

Seized and consumed

Construed

By one my secret name

Tern, inscribed in the bloodstain

Exhume the body of the priest

Reviling chorus from the beast

Psychosomatic, physically

I feel the rotting pulse finally taking me