With blackened wings, you soar into my bein. Piercing my very soul, Left empty and bleeding. What is this haunting you bring upon me? Swift and sure as darkness wreaks.
Becoming hollow and devoid. Thrust evil upon me no more, Sweet and foul daemon, Leave of what remains of me.
Silence is not becoming. Though absent you have become in presence, forever tainted I will be. Impossible is victory for what will can defeat this...
Loveless, eternal.
Maurice Cross