Wet this blade upon a stone so clear,
That we may open this eve of unhallowed hours.
With the spinning of this globe,
Does yet another day fall before night.
As will those who embark upon vain ambitions,
To smear these sacred circles.
Let them be drawn,
Connecting this world to ours.
That delicious horned forms can cross upon cloven feet,
And burn brimstone upon a world so green.
With this sharpened blade may we plunge,
In such oblivious flesh as this?
Let the light be drawn and depart,
That we may call upon the deep.