Groza III

Now I am become death.
Crawling, slithering along the edge.
Shattered splinters, frozen in an eruption of light.

Craving for stench of divine rot.
Scratching the bare core of hideous truth.
Wherewith shall it be received,
When the souless precious vessel lies ruined and lost?

Now I am become death.
Pierced by those signals of transcendence.
Right at the 5 minutes of salvation.

The bitter blood of the Lamb.
Shattered grace. Ashen virtue.
The horror. The horror.
A precious jewel of His making.

And as the light embraces the wanderer,
As knees bend as thought is obliterated,
With the very moment that resistance has ceased,
Now, I am become death, the enemy of man.