Born to the sun in the dead of the night, raised by the moon in the dread of light
Mother please bless us in our ignorance, the bliss that we seek seems to drip from their lips
Taweret! Matriarch protect us. Taweret! Oh, Mistress of the Horizon!
Borne unto rubble, Destined to burn, her hatred is subtle, from depths we return
Fear Death; we control, but in death we console
“Believe me and all I know
I’m how you’ve grown.”
Cherry picked integrity to settle a score of indignity!
But in death we console
Believe me and all I know
Rise in the shine yet at night you decline
Like clockwork if it was blind by; Creation
As tusks to an animal’s hide, benign! In foresight the rot will still fester
Watch the serpents fall from your mouth, just as you slithered from your mother’s filth, you grovel! You’d groveled to giving hands?
Vile spineless afterbirth
Gloom Nativity
Scarabs infecting our wounds all with gout, there’s no room for doubt. With no one around you can finally show the world that you’re proud!
Undeserving fleshlings, leeching off the essence of your creator’s bosom. We’re all just fodder for the furnace!
Infernus
Glyphs of royal stone containing our existence, lost in translation or perhaps to our own hubris?
Arms raised towards solace, a final prayer to the empty cosmos
“b#stard son, begotten and glum. I hear your cries and I feel your tears.”
Damaged, abandoned, forgotten and stranded
Divine intervention, dressed up for matrimony
Ways of old conflate and conflict, but discourse breeds the false prophets
Gaze into the void and face your oblivion!
Facing fears in dwindling years, only wanna change when death is near
Taweret! Matriarch protect us. Taweret!
Oh, Mistress of the Horizon!
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