The Pale Impotent King

Fervent disciple, your greed knows no bounds Guided by a blinding light, birthing horrors that cannot be wished away Ardent apostle, with rue you will be laden with sting Cleanse your ashen soul Pale impotent king, sew shut your begging mouth Return to the crust of the earth To repeat whispers Granting fictitious permission over what is not yours Passionately volatile, claiming power while struck with idle hands Granting fictitious permission over what is not yours Passionately volatile, claiming power while struck with idle hands Once a giant, now slain, and disfigured Clarity and unity Held back by trophied thought The calamity swept aside No honest salvation in sight Your power, your hold Washed away for a fleeting reason As if there ever was a reason