The One Who Smite

I am the phantom you please to see

Oh, my precious. Come sleep with me

I occurred beside the magic pawn

Omnious, is this fading dawn

I am the scenary, the one who smite

I was always meant to avoid this light

Wisely, I naturally avoided the lash

And escaped what now is layed in ash

You starvers you have seen

Nevermore will you look upon the preen

Illusionary palace, glory in a curl

Wretched faces of a dead world...

They, the dust, have now gone.

For the lord of them will be the one

that broke their wings, and kissed their horns

Enslaved, and carrying the burden of the thorns.

Beyond this millenium, and milleniums more...

The moving figures

my undressed lust

Their tempting eyes with their silver dust

Mine to behold like the flap of my soul

Dead skin prison.

Dead...

Stiff...

Cold...