So come let us drink to the doomed souls of foolish men
your chastity I’ll consume, my fathers seed in your womb.
The dread before the deed, crisis cruelty conjure my needs
Yes! a beast will feast in disbelief, idyllic beauty will cease.
Hear howls in cries running cold, then what about the crows
hollow hills of sorrow! the grotesque graveyards of tomorrow.
Scroll stories of scares that scold, then serve until death unfolds
vanquished valor’s vice, tremors tricks, and trolls the devil’s hold.