Of the horns I am
Of the horns I remain
Slouching across fields
Of rape and ruin
Crouched beneath
The reeling sunwheel
Upon a mephitic breeze
My prayers go out
Like a harvest of rats.
Of the rusty rails I am
Of the rails I remain
Hobo shaman
Black-clad vagabond King
Black marketeer
Of a paradise misbegotten
Of the bottomless pit I am
And of the pit I remain
My lilting choirs of Armageddon
Sung on lyres strung with flesh and wire
Summoning my bastard sons and brute creations
Shat from feculent wombs of excrement
I stand insolently against Gabriel's hollow trumpet
And Michael's jaded blade
Soon to be bound in perpetual night
My assassins are on the wing
I inherit the earth
Upon the backs of the meek
I am legion
For I am many.