Tiamat The Desolate One
By a pool Of amber water A sticky smell Of carrion kind Integrates with nature slowly Green fields I offer you Snowy mountains in present air The sunflower tongue On a wave comes the saturn king To grant the man on the beach Surfing on his orbital rings A frightened mental vortex we'll be A sun we seek, a sun we flee A scar Upon mother earth A nebular each The desolate one The desolate one The desolate one
