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I take upon my shoulders the weight of the world
Blood and ugliness, bitterness and pain
Death, mourning, sadness and deep shadow
Still the world is hard to accept
I cast away the body, the seat of pain and doubt
My gaze does not fall on the lifeless
My touch shall not heal the lost and the blind
I shall make torpid earth wake to primeval chaos
Charmed by dark beauty
I free nightly spirits from the abyss
I still remain a part of the only mystery
Kindling desires in souls gone astray
I am liberty, the Devil's own work
An iris of fire, an oracle mad
The flame I carry and you follow
Dances to the wingbeat of my black arts
If but a drop of what I feel
Flew up in the sky
Wings would lift infinity
And the universe would burn like a torch
Run, run, running in the Dark

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A Philosopher at the End of the Universe

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