Her throat
Labours at
At the work
Of felate

A ghoul has stepped through her skin and into God
And in this place, she is bound to her God
Bride of the rotting world, made by God

Awful and beautiful to her eyes
Because here, here, love ends, here, love dies
Come the arrival of the God of all flies

Consumed
By her own
Slow-burn
Bitter fire

Utter, utter the words of her mind
Mother, mothеr to all mankind
Utter, utter, "All men will fall"

Day by day, shе steps closer to her crucifixion
Fair ribbons of scarlet dangle from her wrists
Hard by the gates to hell, her crucifixion

From her own
Sound creation
She is brought
Into being