Rest now as the throes of the unmanifest have inspired
the unspeakable, and tones fall on ever-scarred ears.
Obscure visions elicited by lustrous perfumes.
Remnants of the Black Curse crawl into transient sleep.
Oh, unclean sons, may this poison maintain its consistency.
"What is this that cripples tongues and hands?"
The unequaled obscenity that draws upon the tomb-cast ...
and begins to crumble all with the immensity of the universe.