In this desert for 40 days Voices tell me the ways
I first believed in demons, but it is not They are older units, real
They ask me to write a book, cursed If they will let me die of thirst (They ordered me)
Sitting on the edge of a dune, they dictate to me Like whispers of Jinns they force me to write
Incantations to invoke these gods Cursed bible, obscene words Alone in the desert I lose my sanity And I write the end of humanity No place to escape I'm no more than a shape
\"Listen to us poor human, your book should Begin with this verse That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with Strange aeons even death may die\"
I write pages and pages, My hand is bleeding, for this book of rages
Now they found me in the crowd Invisibles, they devour me I would end up in a shroud No one can help me