I plant the last cross in the frosted ground
of winter marching through the leaves of fall.
The last of my coterie I hadst found
I buried, each covered with a singed pall.
Now in the world of cold, I lie in snow,
mourning the loss of everything I was.
Insanity exuding from my woe
and dreadful curses spouting from my jaws.
Thou art a monster corrupting the world
and spreading dreadful lies of the deeds done.
But soon, behold, the truth to be unfurled!
The news spreadest thee from thy serpent's tongue.
I choosest to complete my final hunt
and punish thee for such a great affront.
Thou hearken not to the grave steps upon the earth now beating.
Dost thou not see, contemptuous fiend, the eyes of death upon thee?
Thou takest from the living world the reason for my being.
And by thy hand, destroy my land, stealest everything from me.
