1. PESSIMISM I

That prophecy of which the oracle of delphi once spoke,
An eternal night was to fall on thebes.
When the infant with tethered ankles was born.
The fear of laius, was it justified?
The flawed nature of being, the magnitude of his pain.

In the cradle of polybus and merope he rests.
Fearing to fruit his adoption.
The path of destiny in a wretched and entropic cosmos...

This shall lead him to delphi, the creator of a prophecy.
Apollo shall watch, as the seed is being reaped...
The disguise of merope, to be the bearer lies to his face.

A journey to thebes...
Once where he was cursed.
At Davlia, a chariot intervenes.
King Laius thus stands merciless again;
To crush his way through the roads...
But this time he lacks the power to defeat.

Oedipus shall fearlessly strangle his father.
The foreigner in thy host.
The parasite in my thoughts.
The constraints in us is Laius.
We shalt kill, shall isolate.

I see the prophecy come true, the father lies dead while his Mother awaits.
The code of ethics, is subjective while some of them call Him a sinner.

I despise his being for embracing his nature.
The agony shall leave him in despair.
When the plague walks, when the plague walks through the City.

Man, he shalt walk on four limbs as an infant.
Two as when grown and three when his legs give up, and he Calls for a stick


2. PESSIMISM II

The arc of death and despair, resultant of religious Pollution.
Creon's words are black...
Summoning of tiresas...
He knows what's to come forth.
The answers to oedipus's questions.

Oedipus is blinded.
The irony of our existence.
You yourself are the criminal you seek.

A messenger arrives from cornith.
With the news of meropes's death.
Easing him with truth, in a desolated ambience...

Though sorrow shall fall,
Acceptance of the inner purpose...
Which is forbidden, because it doesn't exist.

To see men as mere phantoms,
To have the mark of philosophical capacity,
The truest dellusion of our kind,
Is revealed to us in our dreams.

This is the end of alien concepts,
And the beginning of a personal reality.
In isolation we shall see, the meaning
Of meaninglessness


3. PESSIMISM III

The swords of thebes in battleground,
While creon ascends to the throne.
On holy land shall oedipus die,
Spoke apollo, from amongst the desolated arts...
Antigone was left behind...
To burry her brother she craves...
Her tears rant of creon's eddict.
Into infinite sorrow she drowns...

For the vultures feed on to...
The body of polynices.
Hymns of the gods echo, while the crime had been committed.
In search of antigone, the sentry was lost.
Morality of the eddict was questioned enough.

Corrupt and conspired against creon almighty;
Antigone was imprisoned.
As her body hangs, from the ceiling of the cave.
Creon's morals appear out of a void.
A void in which we live.
Of familial duty, she dies...
Existential void, fulfilled.
A story of utter humor.
Pessimism at my will.
Pessimism at my will


4. FIST OF A CRUSADER

A count of darkness and power; he walks.
Manipulating with fright and harnessing his greed.
A non-causcoid with some of god's grace..
Sheds his skin at his face, while looking into his eyes.
Count of darkness, my friend....
Living to cure....

A man of faith lists his ungodly sins.
The dagger of time is slitting his wrists.
He floats away in the river of time.
To the labyrinth, the enemy of man.

The sword of god, The hand of justice.
An almighty slayer such walks.
Engrave his name on ivory, unforgettable...
The massacre...

I watch his fort in his throne of night.
Brought to ruins by the flames of time.
A man of sin fulfills his craving void;
Rests his head to the ideals of faith.
Does the actual prevailing justice await?
Or this non-ideal world meets another one of it's closed Gates


5. AERIE DESCENT (THORNS COVER)

By the moons, heist, and all of the light
Above the earth to roam
To enveil that which never was
And never to become

The moon rose, was crimson in color
Lighted its coming form
That once crushed to the made.
It ever comes again
And again, and again
And again, and again
And again, and again

The moon shone with a fuller red
Of crossed be drawn to the earth
What once has been shall be no more
Dead in graves is heist
It is
In graves

By the moon's haze and northern moonlight.
Upon the earth he rode.
He seeks that which never was
And never (is) to become.
The moon rose, it was crimson in color,
As if the night saw the coming fall
That once crushed your domain.
It ever comes again