Impaled raider-angels chest
A battered sculpture here manifests


Woe - Begone souls
Crowd the world in under Arcane
As a horde yet kept asuder Profane


Cruel defected angels
Ensnared in sweet rapture

Yet cursing and rejecting their sins

Descending steep stairs

Of black frosty stone
Approaching the vault
Of the ones $$#umed condoned


From the walls grabble claws
Of a voracious kind

Lasvicious gods laughter
Resounds in the halls like thunder


Draw the sabre offered to you from
The scabbard in the phantoms globed hand
And chop away Feel free from grace


Blistering dead mist looms up from
The phosphorous wells like acid steam

Noxious gas invades the weak things
Of the damned as they crowd
Themselves stairward

But held down by the sabre-
Wielding lords


Take the meat-dish offered to you and
The goblet from the phantoms gloved hand
Sink your teeth into the flesh of your prey

You have given rein
To your malicious ways


Mangeled and torn
Hangs the torso with angelwings
Amongst my gates ebony xylography

No crawling back
From underworld purgatory
To heavens filled with hypocrisy


Take the banner handed to you and
The dagger from the phantoms gloved hand

To lead the way