Here I stand and behold the masses...
Would you consider perfect the horde of worms?
Nor do I, roaming high above their
Would you ever see me passing through the centuries?
I know not.
My spirit always doubts, exploring the
Futile being, the beginning and the instant end...
Worthless entities, how low can you go with your
Majesty expelled, born dead into this world,
You whip your beggars in wine,
Knowing not their minds stay
Despite you cry out... "Finally, I've seen a sign!"
A sign from the highest lord?
Grace of heaven
Sailing the astral seas, I saw the godly sperm flow down...
The failure or the supreme beast?
Raining is the sticky divine fluid, unwilling to give your mind
A long-awaited birth...
Pathetic way of
Logic based on absurd...
Paradoxical change of seasons,
When winter comes in spring...
This is what you are,
the creatures of destruction...
This is what I am, the misanthrope,
Proud in my existence,
Perfect in my shape...