Deaths Are His Monument

With every sound of croak,
When despair corrodes the harmony of worms,
I behold the iconic manifest of revenge...
Titanic formation of what enemy is to be...

Mass graves...
Mass mirrors of reign that is yet to come?
Funeral fires...
Ignition and denial within "I" is born?
Plagues and famine...
Wrath of yhvh or privilege for the devilish watcher?
Death fanaticism...
Black magick of his malign essence?

Thus, with the last drop, in this last cup
I toast the disorder, I praise the wisdom!
Thus, with the last drop, in this last cup
I toast the serpent, I praise the beast!

And I see no mirage... I see it no more!
The light that burns, and the dark that gnaws...
Abominating union of existence revealed,
The final retrospection of so known phantasmagoria.

Oh, lord, where shall I seek for the works of thine?

When microcosm is one with the skyline,
And the sun is adust deep within adept's skin,
I shall behold:
The stench of bodies, scorched temples
Of once upon vain sacrifice...

Lo,
Deaths are his monument!
Lo,
Deaths are his monument!