I placed Roses on the gates to Agartha,
And receded to my knees awaiting purgation.
The Earths crux; the home of the holiest harbour,
Defying my sins in hopes I become host to holy invasion.  

Now I wasn't no Martyr and I wasn't no Libertine,
I even come bearing my soul drenched kerosene.
I wailed out "I beg forgiveness for all my sins - I beg forgiveness for everything",
As the thorns from the Roses pierced my skin.

I stained the golden gates with my blood,
as I cursed the Roses to eternal fire.
Each petal wilted down and turned black with my flood, encased in barbed wire.
No mercy for a mere boy soaked in frustration and pain,
Who feared the gates to Agartha to seal;  and never to be opened again.