Raze, raze, twisting blaze
Make my devil not to want
Make my language hard and blunt

Oh, a wilder moorland hunt
Look, a rushing pseudo-child
I put to death the rabbit mild

Screaming in the underbrush
Undergrowth be bit to dust
As I walk the planet’s crust

Keep me tangled if you must
Fetter me in hocks of meat
‘til Hades puts me to sleep

Persephone to gently weep
Over her embittered sea
Washed in dark tranquility

She extends a hand to me
Slender fingers pale and bright
She fills up my head with light

And resurrects my open mind
So that the prophecy is true
So that the day we surely rue

Is closer, in that underbrush
And so, to root it out I must
Be strong of will and dead to trust