Oh his highest king Tell me what is wrong with me I seem to have such mournful taste When it comes to you You are the angrogony That keeps my nerves quiet As they shatter the asylum You have built for yourself Thirsty for power In the dark qualms Caught in a unknowing apoclolypse Tell me that you crave my intimacy A delicate sway Prediments caused by the roaring river Such power and strength It is destined that you fall Fall from grace Sleep well with this poppy milk Made from all the souls you take Oh highest tyrant Love me least. That i can flourish Under your Unyielding pressure.