The Birth of Beauty

The Gods are hungry, the Gods are weeping
They’re thundering the Mountain
passes where we’re sleeping
I don’t believe in Death, I don’t believe in Fate no,
not at all…
Her body burns me…
my wounds are Black and Nightmare
Unclean… unseen…
The Night comes softly Mother of Titans
She plunders madly
where the Wolves are softly screaming
There are no Suns or Spheres
There’s only Darkness trembling in my burned eyes
The Past is Present, the Future is Ancient
While the Universe creates…
A Great Destroyer a Tree of portent
Rises like a Thorn of Mist to break us…
A Devil Angel she slays common time
A blazing beacon where blinded sailors
Break in waves of crimson foam
A Pagan Bonfire 'round which we Dance
While the Harvest Lord
burns gladly praising you…
Praising You… Praising You… Praising You…
Still Rising…