The fruit of forbidden Gnosis
Guarded by the talking snake
Offered to Qayin sons
Carriers of anti-light
Wandering the land of Nod
Where Necrosphic wisdom emerges
Only we know the esoteric truth
Private for the weak race of Adam
We are the sons of the Dragon
We are the sons of the serpent
We are the sons of the wisdom
We are the sons of the truth
We are the sons of the Dragon
We are the sons of the serpent
We are the sons of the wisdom
We are the sons of the truth
Enlighten me with your death’s blackened Light
Like the acosmic outer fire who embrace us
From the impious grounds of the first Akeldama
Like the pneumatic fire running through our veins
Carrier of the bloody scythe
The King of the sepulchre
“I call upon the Master of All Burial Grounds!
I call upon He who brings death to the living and life to the dead!
Veni Qayin Coronatus! Veni, veni Qayin Rex Mortis!”