Vedae Som Matis

To live is but to die,

A truth so solid and adamantine.

Yet to die is to live,

A reality to which you resign,

And forsake the divine lie.

Life is a miser's curse, to which,

Death is the only answer,

In the darkness so teeming

With the demons often dreaming

Of stealing the soul of hope.

And in our darkest hour,

And in the darkest depths of despair,

When tragedy strikes,

You'll wait for me there.

So uplift the goblet,

So bejeweled with lies,

And adorned with hatred;

Down it pours,

The blood so dark,

And poisoned by the Truth.

For you shall name it Hope,

That fire of fire,

But it is naught, but the

Agony of Desire.

Strike true, strike deep,

Toward the darkness within,

The foulest of foul,

The darkest of sin.

Strike unto your heart,

Your vile, beating heart.

It is the only gift,

With which I can offer and bestow,

A parting of the ways,

So final and so free,

My gift to you,

The Gift of Death.