Sharpened by the flintstone tearing apart on recoil Sun bathes the ribs the organs spoiled Ascending Descending
Skull racks Carved in stone Am I finally worthy of thee Mountain speak to me White swann Born in smoke Open Wounds Healed in salt
Layed upon the altar Aside sprouts appeared Thrown down the stairs the Altar spilled Ascended Descending
I nourish life Infused in my own demise, I fall earth crops moon and stars spring from this beating heart of mine Godlike I embrace mankind covered in red strip of my inner sun
High, High on the mountain top Ascend Down, down to the undercave Descend