Can you hear them?
Their weary screams of agony,
Traveling back,
From the blackest regions of their hereafter.
You may
have to hollow me
To understand this mortal blasphemy.
We are born of the blackest hearts:
We all are heirs to the morning
star.
Do you hear the caitiff choir?
Faithful to none but themselves.
Now do you see them?
Can you see me now?
Can you see
that we are...?
Born of the blackest hearts,
We are all heirs to the morning star.
Disheartening, isn't it
To find that man is
inherently perverse.
Disheartening, isn't it
That man is inherently evil.
Do you hear the caitiff choir,
Faithful to none but
themselves?
We are of the blackest hearts;
We all are heirs to the morning star.
