Circle Of Ouroborus From Chaldean Coffins
It only seems like yesterday
When we embarked on our journey
Yet the flaws born so far away
Still continue to lead
The blissful man by the hand
Stranded vessels upon her waters
Feet wet with quicksand
Relentlessly wasting their seed
As we take off from the surface
And behold the sunken blooms
Their fate shall further guide us
And nearly divide one division in two
From the initial radiant seven
United by their work (to become one)
Exceeding perfection to eleven
To love nothing but that which is true
Tapping into currents of destruction
Has lost all of its significance
Buried under the anvil of reason
The almighty omnipotence (of nothingness)
As the roots reach the sky from my casket
They impale my illusory skin
From our Chaldean dungeons and crosses
Blindness is our treasure to win