Trespass these seven gates
To a world bloodlet to shades
Where Seraphim
(Falling on deaf ears) bleat
Of their cold and coming Master's race
In the seweres of Babylon
Stillborn to a trough anon
Chimiracles will hatch like plots
To dredge faeces to pearl their cross

Enter Penteholocaust!
Five Aeons past, yet still Man grasps
At final straws to save his cast!