Cryptic Nightmares

He can feel it in his bones
 The tides are turning
 The seeds have been sown
 The tides are turning
 He can feel it in his bones
 His mind is burning
 The seeds have been sown
 His mind is burning
 He can feel it in his bones
 The tides are turning
 The seeds have been sown
 The tides are turning
 An eternal flame burns within him
 All the power of the stars flow through his soul
 A great unease forged in the cold depths
 It torments the dreams of a vulnerable soul
 Vivid visions of pain and suffering
 Such fear can only lead to darkness
 He will not embrace death
 The nature of the universe
 Writhing through his thoughts
 Like maggots in flesh
 Waking in cold sweat
 Each and every night
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 Twisting, contorting, flailing, tortured
 Manipulated by this black spectre of prophecy
 Images of suffering, death to the innocent
 He's growing ever stronger, the pieces fall in place
 Lecherous thoughts betray his sacred vows
 He is but a pawn in a game to wake a nightmare
 Blinded by desires, passion is his downfall
 Ruthless brutality wasted on the weak
 Writhing through his thoughts
 Like maggots in flesh
 Waking in cold sweat
 Each and every night