Like a moth into the light,
the world is ours to unite,
so purified, as we ignite,
and toss ourselves into his flame,
to free ourselves of nature's blame.
His hunger, habitual.

Like a whore of hearts lament,
our fate is ours to regret,
so mortified, as we forget,
and drown ourselves within the sea,
to wash ourselves at his decree.
His avarice, immortal.

I curse thy life, we leaveth thee behind.
Thee not worthy of the dragon's sight,
wash thy sins, or beget the blight.
As burning winds are blowing south,
we throw ourselves at the dragon's mouth.
The dragon cult ritual.