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.