A nail for the tongue, and two for the eyes
A wreath of thorns for thy mantle, with horns raised to the sky
May thy speech be endless war, and they gaze unending storms
Thy Black Nimbus A Gate, for numinous forms
May your breath be the plague, that precursor's death's toll
And your footfall the quaking, that crushes the soul
May thy speech be endless war, and they gaze unending storms
Thy Black Nimbus A Gate, for numinous forms
Two nails for thy palms, and one for the feet
Enshrined in inversion, as the lambs stagger and bleat
May thy speech be endless war, and they gaze unending storms
Thy Black Nimbus A Gate, for numinous forms
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