I have strived for years to become the perfect soul.
not in the ways that you may think, I have chosen to become cold, til the final toll, the beckoned call, I shall accept the righteous fall.

Am tied to memories of bitter cries, til my own eyes, perceived the basilisk bitter sighs, to no suprise, I will call upon the night.

Become what I must this powerful lust of a creature that is raised from dust, the calling of a shadowed bust, a skull that's faded in whitened rust.

Death is nigh for all around, but not from me, I see no ground, there will be no shedding of the tears, as I no longer will feel those that are near and will be released from any fear. Do not seek me out for only you will be found.

Destroyer upon the voyaged seas, crash upon the sirens' plea, ripped from the vessel mercilessly, as my name is called the serpents flee, against the fallens' last decree, you will never be set free.

Of desolation within prismatic eyes, a shallowed breath of discouraged sighs, I hear not the children's cries, crimson skies and broken lies, humanity will see it's demise.

Worlds appear to crumble from a chaotic sound of thunder, awakening all into eternal slumber, from your vessel I shall plunder the souls of every father, child and mother and in my wake all shall shudder as heaven and hell will be left asunder.