Through ambered even tides and dream scapes waste   Throat-cut memories writhe dissolving   As the sacred sinners white washed hands   Bless the earth with sonorous lies      For words are the manacles of doctrinal hypocrisy   Murderous instincts never silenced they hold   So I rise above the grotesque industry of pain   As I deny the grace of the divine foretold      Midst rebellious angels I do now sleep   Isolated from the grasp of the holy scorn   So touch my essence through pride and revolt   Our storm brought winter throne to eternalize      I am but what I am   Far from thy inebriating delusions   Hidden 'neath the blueprints of your edifices   My entity you cannot steal