Trespass these seven gates To a world bloodlet to shades Where Seraphim (Falling on deaf ears) bleat Of their cold and coming Master's race In the seweres of Babylon Stillborn to a trough anon Chimiracles will hatch like plots To dredge faeces to pearl their cross
Enter Penteholocaust! Five Aeons past, yet still Man grasps At final straws to save his cast!
