In a desert part of the Cathedral
The black pounding heart
That a thousand people fears

Dark eyes stare with carnal bloodlust
At the fettered virgin's helpless struggle

Torture tools shall desecrate the temple of her soul
And pierce the night with her cries

The sacred blood of the Lord's servant flow
And the eyes of the creature woefully glow
As gleaming red as the scarlet lips of the beast

The sacred blood of the Lord's servant drips
And run down the throats of the creature who from open vein sips
As the moon glows - as pale as the skin of the beast

Dreadful candles dimly light the scene
At her screaming prayers

Torture tools shall desecrate the temple of her soul
And force her spirit beyond the gates of Evil Divinity

The sacred blood of the Lord's servant is gone
And her soul is now in the hands of the Malevolent One
Who laughs as bloodfreezing as the obsidian in the eyes of the beast

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Daedalan, in the year 664 AF.