Power calling, and the frail shall turn to dust as the power rising within the few who find the will, it grows. I know. It shows. Within the heart there's a fury and it grows. Within the eyes a deathlike calm and eye to eye we recognize our own. With death of day within the few this inversion shall bring anew that of nights that since have gone unknown.
Beyond this coil I am reaching.
Beyond your reach I send myself.
Beneath the earth beyond the sky, it grows. Extend our will silent and still as one by one we deify our own. Now heed the urge to slip inside and let them scream of patricide.
Destiny we will invent alone.