Blessed He With Boils

Marked for death and horribly maimed

I've suffered its pains, yet rightwise claimed

This holy throne atop the Erthe;

All shall witness a new god's birth

Blasphemer, deceiver

A perfect fool

I shall nobly rule

Whose lies entrance

This northern expanse

Believe!

This holy land belongs to me

The crown of kings upon my head

Proclaims my royalty.

Accept my gift

And grovel at my knees

Arise!

Monuments to my reign

One thousand years of faceless gods

Replaced by fire and steel

Consume!

And let our might be known

The feeble kings of Erthe and Axen

Are but flesh and bone

Man, who is Erthwile born

Who longs, who tries, who is

Full of strife

How frail is life!

And mine is but a breath

A hopeless Thought

Who is empty,

Faithless, embittered

And capable of anything

Inconquerable

Yet full of woe

So I extend my reach

Upon riches

Unfit for unseen gods

And disperse them to my sons

My body is covered with maggots and scabs

My skin, is faded, cracked and dry

And still they proclaim

Blasphemer, deceiver

A thief they say

But I have suffered

And I have paid

All this was

Long ago.

Reap what you sew:

Erthe and Axen,

Flesh and bone

Marked for death

No sense but a pulse

Neath my fading breath

I'll bear the weight

Chains of my past so full of hate

King of Erthe

How frail is life

Dust and Ash

How full of strife

Like aeons past

And when I die

Your disease shall never last

Never again shall I arise

All this was

A thief they say

Long ago

To dead gods they pray

Reap what you sew

I have suffered

Erthe and Axen, flesh and bone

I have paid