Wormwood Xanthochroid

All the trivial pleasures of Erthe
Are but bile and bitter venom
When all has darkened
Hatred's light shall guide me

The torrid winds of my home
No longer warm my flesh
I turn my gaze to the sea
To my forgotten enemy

The weight of prophecy
No longer burdens me
I save my strength
To be reborn

Behind me is that world of ash
The cold air shortens my breath
Winter's Spirits grow stronger
As I draw near

I hope my death
Absolves me
Of my wrongs
I hope it's cold
I hope it hurts