Call the ancient ones. Build them into the foundations Primitive guides Who live only to maintain their blood Feeding from their coward existence To strive for power To convince you Of a better future To come
They teach you How to feed them Still you do not ask why Making their large yellow eyes Ordering you to chant Until a state of insanity
Ritual death You sacrifice, without choice
The eleventh element The only exit The limbless crawl together to give birth You're drained in front of their dead eyes The fleshly expression of might
You look upon the scene As a spectator But forget you're the one lying in the altar
Guided by the foundation stones Into your oblivion
They teach you, how to feed them Still you do not ask why Making their large yellow eyes Makes you to chant, until a state of insanity
