Ihsahn Catharsis
To drain the blood
From his face
This black stinking oil
And scorch the prints
Of everything
On these cold hands
To [...] the dead
From the jaws
Of this treacherous call
Ashes of the earth
And the mouth
To [...]
[...] his heart
To cut off everything
That ever touched the [...]
All these burn
A burning offering
To you, God
That would [...]
This crippled memory