He Who Breathes Fire Worm Shepherd

Born of fire, I will exist in every disregarded corner of this realm
As my path opens, I fear for the man who stands to oppose me in the long-foretold
Ever forgotten dead of the night

I wander this realm cursed by memory, reborn to mourn blood and Hell beneath
Welded together in flame, false eternity
Blessed to arise, with a final chance to scorch thy temple and return to everything

Bathing in flames to remember the ire
Wielding this lance with awakened desire to shower this temple with sparks and drench them in smoke
I can taste it now
The repeating cinema of frantic sheep sprinting aimlessly within the pyre

I wander this realm cursed by memory, reborn to mourn blood and Hell beneath
Welded together in flame, false eternity
Blessed to arise, with a final chance to scorch thy temple and return to everything
My blood shall be restored in the vessel of the five realms
I cannot die; I will outlast them all

I exist where the winds cannot travel
I can taste it now
With the heads of kings strung on my back, the scorpions sing to thee
Forth into black from the winterine hand of that soulless dog
A leader of wolves, banishing hundreds to their frigid tomb
Death's cold hand
Death's cold hand born of a frozen star