From within the wounds of my mind,
Arises the thunder called 'I'.
The stars are but thistles in the sky.
I was conceived of a jackal,
You pain is but a splinter on the cross child.
Thy will be done, for this is the Sanhedrin of the Sabbath.
I will be so powerful, no need to take on a form.
Casting spells upon the weak. No need to believe.
Speak the words out loud. A manifest of space and time.
A manifest of life, my Satan dances with his devil.
He is my human bloodhound, deeply attracted by the scent of my darkness
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