The Living Dreams of a Dead God

A withered figure sits on a throne of bone
 in the frostbitten wasteland at the end of all time
 he carved a path of blood and hateful destruction
 with a hungry blade made of blackest midnight
 Under the fading light of the last stars
 sunken pale eyes gaze into the vast abyss
 I have learned more wisdom than was ever forgotten
 by hanging my soul from an old tree root-rotten,
 in exchange for wretched necromantic black magick
 I brought forth pestilence, sorrow, and endless death
 Under the fading light of the last stars
 sunken pale eyes gaze into the vast abyss
 So I stand at the end of all time,
 when the last embers fade away,
 staring into the fetid singularity
 but I shall remain
 I shall remain