It pulses, it breaths, it moves... It watches at you and searches for you... It whispers at your ears... And makes you dream... And you can hear it’s heart-beat... It’s alive!
I’m the root... The root of Carpathia I’m the root... The root of Madness I’m the ink to write your Necronomicon I'm the prayer... to enslave your demons I’m the blood that makes you free I’m the root... the root... the root...
AT NORTH ZUMUORSOBET, NOIJM, ZAVAXO!!! AT EAST QUEAHIJ, ABAWO, NOQUETONAIJI!!! AT SOUTH OSAIJ, WURAM, THEFOTOSON!!! AT WEST ZIJORONAIFWETHO, MUGELTHOR, MULGETHOR-YZX!!!
It tells, it speaks, it rises the damnation Listen to it’s stories: They can be short of neverending, Always new and always old, Always the same and always different Close your eyes, close your mouth... Also in silence and in blindness you will find it in you It’s in you...it’s in you... it’s in you...
And so, in it’s many forms and groups such as prose and poetry Story or comments, We are devoted to it... To the pleasure of the sound it produces To it’s existance that describes a moment What beats, breathes, moves, we watch...
I’m the root... The root of Carpathia I’m the root... The root of Madness I’m the ink to write your Necronomicon I’m the blood that makes you free I’m the root... the root... the root...