The cloak of immortality, the sceptre of ancients. I manifest Thanatos, the wretched Son of Nyx.

Callous, here I stand,

Marking the end of the so-called God. Deus est mortuus.

A vile form shunned by its creator,

The holy father forced to meet with his failures.

Crushed at the hands of our vengeance, The malicious tyrants must be destroyed. Undeserving of all their glory,

I have to take it all away.

Eternal power.

Eternal damnation.

They will remember my hatred. They will feel my pain.

Guardian angels suspended by serpents,

Their blood and guts seeping through every orifice.

Crucified, bound in torture as his son suffered. A loving God kneeling,

Now he begs just like his disciples.

As my glaive descends,

Eyes filled with fear and vehemence,

His final words are cries and whimpers, Begging me to spare his wretched existence.

As the crows descend,

His body becomes awash with parasites. The truth of his presence spills forth,

A plague encased in a pure form.

Feathers fly, ravens pick at the eyes,

A feast for crows has never been so divine.

I kneel at his side the beguiling effects begin to reside. With blood soaked hands I rip the tattered skull free, Of his body.

No one left to challenge me.

His cloak ripped and torn,

The lifeless martyr lies at my feet. I taste his viscera.

The severed head of God raised upon the Earth I claim my place as the unholy divine.

The severed head of God raised upon the Earth I claim my place as the unholy divine.

Now witness the end of days.