In a bucket of blood the brew was made Upon an altar as ancient as (the percieving of) time. No crown on head Perished was blood through holes down, by desert wands Fog and brain collapse distilled reality Put Force by Satan's Command (Just as) the Thriller of the holy trinity, founded Yet pleasures of deseCreation is an ancient ritual for Power - It still has a deep unseen Those who are ready to make crop circles, maybe. The mermaid in the depths, oh tiny tastes. -The Wind of the entire nature's laws Pushed forward by rapid rolling apples so alien That no storm will ever (even) be seen The hybreed so grotesque that the crumbling altars of madness Will lose it's hold on the bucket of blood When the appearing angels of Destruction takes a sip from the box Buried beneath the desert sand. Ready to go on with our world they open up the center of earth to Sacrifice it's heart to rebuild A Power with the materials we never even knew we had. The Wind of the entire nature's laws May very well be ONE element When the ancient alien powers return to Propose a Toast to their neighbors at war.