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Crimson Moon
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Molding of a Spell
Sculpting away at the flesh
A surgical apathy
Towards the mortal shell.
Sculpting away at what is not needed
Blood returned to Sacred Temple
Spirit satiated
The Astral Cross
As Blending of Space,
As twisting of Time
Vendetta is Gnosis
Vendetta is will
May the Nemesis find no air
As Blending of Space,
As twisting of Time
Vendetta is Gnosis
Vendetta is will
May the Nemesis find no air to breath
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May their bones turn to Glass
May their flesh be punished with disease
May the sulphur form their fate
As they beg for Azrael's mercy
As sigil, as cuneiform, as a mark,
As a reoccurring dream
In the form of salvation
Far from the path out of reach
Unto clay, faith is carved
By the wind has molded to form
Three are the watchers,
One comes, one goes
And one still remains
Forever the clay be your stone
Forever the clay be your stone
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