Behold, the ravages of age. The scorns of a thousand years forgotten.Entombed in
my despair; with hate to fuel my soul. This icy palace is my temple. Oh but the
moonlight doth rest its soft glow upon my windowpane And from my throne I turn
a cold and weary gaze. Beset by the darkest of death's spirits, I am cloaked by shadows.
I heartell of angel and succubi; and disregard all. My black sorcery is beyond the
reach of your brood. Devouring souls. From my frosty throne I am the overseer of
this world. Crying orders to my legions of war To snuff the righteous flame. Torn
apart in to black sea of sorrows, Four thousand fathoms below. A heart forged of
frost and the contemplative mind. Searching the cosmos for to seek an escape.
From untimely mortal doom, I am above you all. How harshly the sights and sounds
of this realm Do assault my failing senses. Lifted to dimensions of innocence To weep
for those invested in the physical. Walking among the gardens of Elrotha. Wading in
waters of uncomparable beauty To sleep, to stay, in this place Never to return to the
illusion. Let the rain wash my tired eyes What dreams may hold, I can never deny.
Eyes to the sky, against the cold, against the real, I'll never return,To this hell