Of Aeons Past

Incandescent, formless bones In ever-flowing liquid plasma Six limbs of grey, molten skin Beneath eternal patches of mold This thirst must be extinguished I live only in death's cold embrace I am of what has been dreamt An entity of grey, molten death Hear, I call upon thee! Obsoletely malignant beings Now begin to rise From the depths of the grave I conjure the once lost Oh, death, be my master Be my guiding hand One limb at a time Forcing through the grounds Grave-folk of aeons past Now, arise Oh, death, be my master Be my guiding hand Drifting through death's dreamscapes Celestial myceliums Graveyards of impending non-death The dead shall live again I am complete