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
