For She Doth Make My Veins And

Through Me You Go Into A City Of Weeping; Through Me You Go Into Eternal Pain; Through Me You Go Amongst The Lost People

My Course Is Set For An Uncharted Sea.

Behold A God More Powerful Than I Who Comes To Rule Over Me.

Do Ye Not Comprehend That We Are Worms Born To Bring Forth The Angelic Butterfly That Flieth Unto Judgment Without Screen?

The More A Thing Is Perfect, The More It Feels Pleasure And Likewise Pain.