A soul corrupts and twists and blackens,
And deep inside it shrills its pain so no one else
Can ever hear it, no one else
Can ever sense it, burning, scorching,
Erasing my name.

My wrath corrupts and twists and blackens,
Nothing inside here except painted lies.
I lie to myself and to all that I know
And my pain is complete, silence so angry,
And I lie, I lie, I lie.

Buried in deep let it bend its will too me.
It is I in control and I who will vanquish
All I have hated and all I have been.
And it courses right through me, flows with my blood,
My power is completing, filling me up.

I grapple with myself - my soul twists to ashes
As my anger pours into me and my love is leeched away.
I feel the world grow blacker; the silence has more power
Than the loudest cry, the brightest day;
My silence shows my anger; my silence feeds my rage.

It melds to my hand, my weapon, my steel,
My only defence against a pain I cannot heal.
In the rage there is safety, in the wrath there is warmth;
Mother and lover and strength in its embrace I find,
And fire the writhings of a tormented mind.

A soul corrupts and twists and blackens -
And into it cries the anger I feel:
Screeching and screaming and tearing and breaking,
Smashing all in its path, all that's gone here before.
I am strong, I am power, I am rage.

I reach out with it. Touch his skin...

He corrupts and twists and blackens,
Product of my anger spent.
Nothing left, just ashes to ashes;
And I wonder where my anger went.
Calm.

My soul corrupts and twists and blackens,
Seeking out the rage I felt. It has fled my hand -
Deserted me, deserted me, leaving me alone.
The calm pervades through all my motions,
Dazed, bewildered, lost I feel; and my soul -

My soul corrupts and twists and blackens,
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
Blessed are those who die in the cause.
Blessed am I, some parody of martyr to wrath.
So that I corrupt and I do twist and blacken all I am.

I am weak, and I lie, I am weak.
 

DJK Mairin Astoris (Krath)/Arcona, DC-KC, BN