Hear!

From this day forth

are the heights of Horeb broken

and the sea of sulphur-ice.



And blasphemy!

in heaven's chambers:

Souls had fled their halls

and closed was the book of life.

And behold!

The great, white throne:

black

with sacred blood



Our father -

Dead by his own hands:

an epitaph

worthy no king.



And so is everything

a nameless lie.

Who, my god,

am I?



Man knows me

as Lucifer, the serpent of old.

The wretched hold my banner high.

Your gift

- all life! -

I grant a grave

Yet I am not your death.



Come carry forth the crown

to your once held throne.

Here is where my suffering should cease

- but alas; I am crowned

in grief unheard of!



In this lone monarchy

- without a friend of foe -

I greet the mourning sun

with strife and a song:

Please speak my name!

And leave me not

in the dust of death.



I am weighed down

beneath the tragedy crown, -

nameless,

and alone,

a fatherless son.