The One Who Smite

I am the phantom you please to see
 Oh, my precious. Come sleep with me
 I occurred beside the magic pawn
 Omnious, is this fading dawn
 I am the scenary, the one who smite
 I was always meant to avoid this light
 Wisely, I naturally avoided the lash
 And escaped what now is layed in ash
 You starvers you have seen
 Nevermore will you look upon the preen
 Illusionary palace, glory in a curl
 Wretched faces of a dead world...
 They, the dust, have now gone.
 For the lord of them will be the one
 that broke their wings, and kissed their horns
 Enslaved, and carrying the burden of the thorns.
 Beyond this millenium, and milleniums more...
 The moving figures
 my undressed lust
 Their tempting eyes with their silver dust
 Mine to behold like the flap of my soul
 Dead skin prison.
 Dead...
 Stiff...
 Cold...