In Sacrilege

Solitude is not given
 It is Earned
 In this Conspiracy
 Of Destiny

 Empty Vessels
 Of Spermless Love

 Made of Mud and Mist
 I was Possessed

 We Develop, We Delight, We Define and We Decay
 From within
 sacred Power
 Acting upon my Shame

 In Pursuit of the Impossible Nothingness
 I found myself
 In Sacrilege
 Shall we die a Master-Slave
 For this Dog Day Age?

 Develop and Delight and Decay