No you can't say, what remains;
Under stress of pelting blames.
What loose, what to win?
It’s you, you who will miss the chime.
You choose, you chose to blaze;
A trail of glowing desires.
As daemons thrive your soul
Yourself, you fool by phlegm and sand
You did, and I'd do what I can.
What lies, that you hide behind;
The blue senses of a virgin sinistress?
Let hell choose.
Your mortal desire to rest in pain
I keep your grave to spit-off my wrath.