| An immense cathedral of obscene proportions
|
| Seeps through the fabric of reality
|
| A vehicular edifice in constant change
|
| The ice cold light from distant suns
|
| Dim in the veils of sighing smoke
|
| The desecratrix stabs the pure
|
| Licks and guzzles down their dread
|
| With eldritch craft that fucks their souls
|
| And founds them into twisted stone
|
| A skeletal face of grotesque dismay
|
| Glaring from the rotten wall
|
| Staring back from a distant aeon
|
| A mere facet of the deathless arches
|
| The desecratrix stabs the pure
|
| Licks and guzzles down their dread
|
| With eldritch craft that fucks their souls
|
| And founds them into twisted stone
|
| Like the drone of a thousand groaning gods
|
| The portent din scrapes our hearts
|
| When the firmaments begin to freeze
|
| And the eerie light from the phantom throne increase |