Forgotten unconcious ghosts of aeons lay In chasms cold as the deepest grave A charnel cosmic wind, dispenses his judgement Upon any and all who would dare to challenge fate An end as certain as the setting sun A desolation frozen in time For there is no everflowing stream Peasants rot beside their kings Lord Bothris; he who answers to no-one For in the end, his will alone shall be done His patience; as infinite as the stars The reaper of the harvest of the uncreated Pod Prince of death, I await the final test Grant me access to the fruits of Eden Bathe in the seas of Vlekt at the foot of the master Imbibe the slime, forever after The quest for knowledge, unquenchable thirst Praying for life eternal in this finite universe Raptured, are they who bask in his goo As their physical bodies are consumed Shifting through an ocean of the dead, amidst the skeletal remains Carrion he devours to nenew his father's form From out of chaos comes a new order Decomposer of the flesh, preparing for the end Recycled in the heavens as on earth A rebirth of the material world