Flee the sun's shameful glare
Deny all the words they demanded
Cut out your tongue
Your weak vomit
A tingest
Of blood and horns
Beyond the end of the universe
A scent of autumn
Abandoned, cut on the ground
A suitable place found
For winding down all that was trusted
All the lies that were created
For want of better
Leave the joy of life
Swept into the void of disorder
I the silence and comfort of primeval