On the socrilegious and tortuous Dungeon of rustiness From these forgotten fields The withering and ailing essence Called woerot Vawls a shrink of pain With a shuder of disgust "Alas, i have crawled my hate suffering under the hellish shadows of thorny paths where my gloomy tears of blood fall being veckoned towards the abysm" The vilapivation and mourning of woerot Shall engender upon your souls A black yell of torment We must listen to him writhe And bewail of sorrowwrage "My dismal chant to disavov the lightness is groaming a perpetual requiem while my illumed falldown in this world turns infuriating and unverable without my ancient dwelling, my coffin" And forever woerot cries: "If my distress and ruthlessness are a real sore and eternal blasphemy done poem hail Death! Ave Dusk Woerot!!!"