Thyrane

Inconsistent ideals tend to choke on their vanity, god-given laws to corrupt our sanity.
Fuck your values, and fuck your salvation, i laugh at inri and cherish temptation.
In the evershadowed corners of my soul, dwells the esoteric strength of mine.
For the glory of the Beast, i forever raise the chalice of wine.
You may be many in numbers but you are weak in spirit, deliverance through obedient submission?
Never have i trusted your words, your patterns are destined to fall apart.
I hereby blindfold my self from your illusions.