Xanthochroid Incultus
Cursed be thy name
The outcast one; companionless.
Who by his will betrayed
His beautiful creation.
It is unspoken
And he is resolute
He is broken
He will not say
If he's the enemy
He is no one
His mind will rot
And crows will tear his flesh
Live long, feel naught
When given life
He found a way to die
He is no one
So here's your land;
This Barren Erthe.
Both thorn and thistle
shall it grow for you.
And though you'll eat of it,
It never satisfies.
And you will curse its name!
Incultus!
