Something stirs from an aeon ago
In the centre of a circle of cyclopean stones
Incantations from a mucus bound tome
As the cult makes preparations for their lord's welcome home
Chanting dark and cacophonous rhymes
While the thunder and lightning rends a hole in the sky
Rising tendrils of ash now encircle the sun
Turning black from the blast of the Greatfather's drum
For there can be only one.
There's a pulsating heart in the midst of the void
Twisted maladous melodies which create and destroy
Through a ritual of blood in a valley of doom
He assumes human form on an altar of shrooms
Expulsion of the outcast mind
Cursed to wander in the gardens of slish for all time
For this book is the key, and the psyche; a door
To a cosmic cornucopia of esoteric lore
Cursed words, scribed in slime
Spoken in reverse when the stars are aligned
Only under the black sun, may these mortals partake in his conjuration
Trapped in a spell of the Gastronomicon.
And beneath the shattered sky the earth will grieve
Except for man, who shall be granted no reprieve
On this land which once gave life, now lies clear
In the poisoned depths the wreckage of ten thousand years
Blasphemers of true nature
Hiding from the inner self
Virtues that don't exist
Deny genetic heritage
The circle is complete
We must return to the earth
Usurpers of your masters
You have become mere facades
Nought but pale reflections
A species in dejection
The circle is complete
He is risen, all must suffer
It has begun, the beginning of the end of all things to come