From within the wounds of my mind, Arises the thunder called 'I'. The stars are but thistles in the sky. I was conceived of a jackal, You pain is but a splinter on the cross child. Thy will be done, for this is the Sanhedrin of the Sabbath. I will be so powerful, no need to take on a form. Casting spells upon the weak. No need to believe. Speak the words out loud. A manifest of space and time. A manifest of life, my Satan dances with his devil. He is my human bloodhound, deeply attracted by the scent of my darkness