The Pale Impotent King

Fervent disciple, your greed knows no bounds
Guided by a blinding light, birthing horrors that cannot be wished away
Ardent apostle, with rue you will be laden with sting
Cleanse your ashen soul

Pale impotent king, sew shut your begging mouth
Return to the crust of the earth
To repeat whispers

Granting fictitious permission over what is not yours
Passionately volatile, claiming power while struck with idle hands

Granting fictitious permission over what is not yours
Passionately volatile, claiming power while struck with idle hands

Once a giant, now slain, and disfigured

Clarity and unity
Held back by trophied thought
The calamity swept aside
No honest salvation in sight

Your power, your hold
Washed away for a fleeting reason
As if there ever was a reason