Almost condescending it looks on from inside I feel strong, this day will never wither! In sorcery is my most ancient thought And I thought the sorcerer was right It creeps behind a dusty mirror They, in an attic I dreamt of once Flow through me again, wrathful one I feel strong! Throw the tapestry o'er the oracles! Belong to me innocence... The shears cut cleaner than a child's first sin I chose the grave in blasphemous It fell away a hundred times before But orisons scratched veiled gla** "Though art I," says cast away And I am in an attic I feel weak, this night will never bloom! I am I - now you're mine, my c*nting child