Flow of blood from the cage of my memory, In the cradle of a thousand years of bliss. And I, an actor cast eternally as the Sphinx in the desert winter, Phinx.
Now you know the sadness of the stillborn flesh. And I, a holy actor, cast eternally as a dark shining Margineaux, cast into Hell.
Glow! Burn! Cool down, and sing! Born in this world, born in an instant, born all over again.