The Sons of Seth

To be one of those

Who sway between depression and despair

For a life amongst their icons.

To be one who is chosen

A spectator in the theatre of their

Pathetic and pointless existence.

It kills me a little more

With every passing second...

...I sink into unfathomable tedium

I've been waiting for you for ages

You, who realise my splendour

And who know that eternity is insufficient

To celebrate our carnal union.

To be one of those

Who drift between suicide and anxiety

Unjustly suffering their rejection,

Only to be chosen

To ignite the theatre of their

Pathetic and pointless existence,

It heals me a little more

With every passing second...

...They sink into unfathomable Hell.

For an age I have tortured

Those who do not recognise the Excellence

And billions of humans

Won't be enough to contain my insanity