Why aspire dull purpose?
Beneath the spawn of wrath
The empty gazes scorched
So that the inferno’s minions
May dive to the surface
Meanwhile barren landscape is
Blooming with death and perfidy

For the gods’ shackles of will
Melt under the epiphany
That robs the world of its
Oh so beautiful
Oh so splendid
Oh so squandering
Lie
To the finite mass

In infinite emptiness
Which henceforth is only able
To bring agony
While the judge’s hangman executes
And justice
As if it may have ever existed
Moaning laments
Stokes the last flames