There is a necessity for knowledge
Which plunges us deeper into the maze,
And thus we walk astray
Plagued by hunger and of thirst
With just our tears and sweat to silence them.
Our bread is made from bitter soil
And rays of sun like acid burns our flesh,
Like poisoned arrows pierce our souls,
But still we progress further into madness.
The baseness of our selves,
Divided into incongruous hypostasis
Serves but little to affirm the iniquity
To which we submit each step we take,
Each world we set in flames
And hide among its ashes.
Lo! I block the streams that you created
So I may create Tehôm out of your existence.
What you require of me is more than I can bare
And though you spread your legs
And grin like a frivolous whore
I'm overwhelmed by perdition's breath
That sweeps through me like a storm.
I am thus whole when I am empty,
Holy when I'm cursed,
Caught in a maelstrom of illusion
From which I struggle to be free.
