The edge of an idea: the cusp of my own darkness!
Don't look inside the box, the plastic circle of life and death.
Your tissues, what, they're cardboard? Iron?
Dry it up – the cosmic boxing match the bell's rung out
And loudly screamed, intestines pulled by suction.
Go to your party, go, do not bother me with details –
I will mourn your spirit later, in the dung of your sins' outcomes!
The chrome lamp you bought, I circumcise with all my strength:
Casting out the bulb! That eco-friendly tripe, enough, enough!
I lay waste to all you hold dear! You will tyrannize me no longer,
I AM TYRANT! REX AETERNUM! I AM THE WAY!
The locks are changed – don't bother knocking.