On chthonian shores
Where the spirit may roam with the tide
There's a gleam from a star
Above the mother of harlot's eye

The slant and tortuous serpents
With crowns of gold and silver entwined
Caressing the seed of life
That is neither dead or alive

The tortuous serpent awaits in the shadows
Stealing the seed of all life from the void
A gaze beyond the desires of man
With the will to see the earth be damned

Deep within a lucid dream
Where the spirits are plucked from the tide
In the blackness of the womb
Where soulless creatures writhe