Shaman And The Waning Moon
The tide is calling the volcanic vibration to spring
The demon of the midnight sun
With a thousand names to bear I wield the bronze symbol of the ancients
And let his gaze carve my flesh.
O terrible lord!
Dance thy dance of death entice the eyes of my soul
And let me burn to the rays of nereid bathe my scales and rip my tongue.
The tribes of saphia shall ever speak
The vibrating sound of reptilian transcendence