Vast and decayed, mourners of faded aspirations
upon the colossal halls of rotten tragic shadows,
their inner essence and wisdom like a tornado over my torn spectrum
will always be the bleeding eye.
Dreadful visions of an impending fear,
and unbroken cycle, purified with the stench of sadness,
which leads me to a crimson inmolation,
pain inmense and ritualistic.
Lost years, faded illusions,
bleeding dreams, all in one,
at war with myself at the empire of Msach-Eht