Milleniums turn to sand Behesting the souls of the ashes begrim'd Vague dreams of god dwell within them all Head for the depths, for the widths, for the times His poetry landscapes are deserts of naught Seeking his name 'neath the names of untrue His trident did rise again To pierce dimensions, nebulars with lethal breath of chasmic starless cold The being who is the oldest of times Lurking in the beings who multiply and unify, erecting the glorious reign His name spoken words Finding their way thro' the burning ordelesness Supressed by collision of wills by even sealed... Souls of reddening skies Upon this necklace they thread as stones Submerge in the gloam of dimmed luminaries In galaxies savouring horror Cosmos in crystals of possession reflected Invicible torrents, fierce sounds of Chaos Infinity born of perfection enthroned The forefather who let them drink of his essence Had sent them to wastelands, their lives - hatred's own! Vague dreams of god dwell within them all Head for the depths, for the widths, for the times His mask cracks Revealing the altars of ire unleashed Devouring desires born of the past Into the glory of unity does he arise! Sans mercy I contemplate Vanity swirling and raging in me My dust comprises his entirety For I am the Source, I am the Key, I am the Primal Chaos My poetry's landscapes are wastelands of Un The name of all gods are compelled by my own Eternally do I change To spawn dimensions, nebulars by cursed song of chasmic starless cold The being I am older than old Blasphemy sans shapes or forms Pulsation of unknown tytanic Chaos