i drank a goblet of fire i cut out the prophet s tongue but still the sun refused to move i tore a hole in the web of sanity the very fabric of life itself but still this flesh refused to burn what a humble vision to forever dwell by the grace of the sun i gathered the moon and the stars in my little pouch of planets the renesance of astral flesh dripping and drooling with universal thirst equelibrium going under in such an idle state of death sowing the seeds of a new dimension i am the conqueror in his petty paradise spinning around in a garden of lush blooming death point at the sun and i will be there and the angels scattered and bleeding will be the fundament of my empire and admidst all this forlorn beauty i still laughed at the end