Blessed He With Boils

Marked for death and horribly maimed
I've suffered its pains, yet rightwise claimed
This holy throne atop the Erthe;
All shall witness a new god's birth

Blasphemer, deceiver
A perfect fool
I shall nobly rule
Whose lies entrance
This northern expanse

Believe!
This holy land belongs to me
The crown of kings upon my head
Proclaims my royalty.
Accept my gift
And grovel at my knees

Arise!
Monuments to my reign
One thousand years of faceless gods
Replaced by fire and steel

Consume!
And let our might be known
The feeble kings of Erthe and Axen
Are but flesh and bone

Man, who is Erthwile born
Who longs, who tries, who is
Full of strife

How frail is life!
And mine is but a breath
A hopeless Thought

Who is empty,
Faithless, embittered
And capable of anything
Inconquerable
Yet full of woe

So I extend my reach
Upon riches
Unfit for unseen gods
And disperse them to my sons

My body is covered with maggots and scabs
My skin, is faded, cracked and dry
And still they proclaim

Blasphemer, deceiver
A thief they say
But I have suffered
And I have paid

All this was
Long ago.
Reap what you sew:
Erthe and Axen,
Flesh and bone

Marked for death
No sense but a pulse
Neath my fading breath
I'll bear the weight
Chains of my past so full of hate

King of Erthe
How frail is life
Dust and Ash
How full of strife
Like aeons past
And when I die
Your disease shall never last
Never again shall I arise

All this was
A thief they say
Long ago
To dead gods they pray
Reap what you sew
I have suffered
Erthe and Axen, flesh and bone
I have paid