I sit upon the mountain crest
Watching a world decay
A storm of alabaster snow
Where no love can grow
Wilted trees stand still
Dressed in garments of faded glows
Wilted trees stand still
I cannot tell which way
The wind blows
The psychotic swirl
Of a lion-serpent Sun
Gnawing at its tail
Carving through gnashing rocks
A delirium, sizzling
Of some promethean curse
Blessed be the heretic
Blessed be the misanthrope
Blessed be the beggars of a new hope
All lilies darken
Youth has gone
Heathers crushed or perished
Seedlings bashed against the stone
The last child
Savaged from a thousand wars
Cries out for its mother
Lost beneath the wreckage of man
I saw through the perfect illusion
Through the death-mask
Through the light-trap
But I was held back by some parasite
Whispering curses in the dark
Our fall
The only religion uniting us all
Never again will our hearts be healed
All blessings further lie concealed
This is how the dream ends
With a smile
With a blank stare
Blessed be the heretic
Blessed be the misanthrope
Blessed be the beggars of a new hope
All lilies darken
Youth has gone
Heathers crushed or perished
Archons stray the crimson dawn
Sophia
Rising from a thousand wars
Cries out for her children
Lost beneath the wreckage of God
Cursed be our dominion