Cloaked in a veneer of death The defeateds putrescence Drawn in every breath The third month approaches The red smoking mirror encroaches Twenty dawns arise! By bone wand baptize Through a decaying face Gaze into a living gods eyes Twenty suns set! Shed the mantle with no lament Your flesh gives us power Our enemies failure, their final regret Godly existence behind decay The night drinker
twenty, encroaches, veneer, drinker, putrescence