Текст песни Conjuring the Black Hound - Proliferhate

God
Your image echoes in me
My soul is the last shard
Of your voice, never heard
It yearns to return
To the prime mover of knowledge
So why this spirit tells me
I am nothing but dust?
Don't listen to it, Man
You are nothing but beauty
God is only a spectre
Eidolon of your will
You owe nothing to none
Listen to this old black dog
What does your mind
Think to deserve?
I clearly see it
In your eyes
A sign on paper
A contract to break yourself free
A few drops of ink of soul
May open the shell of the universe
And when you'll claim
That you're satisfied
Your soul shall become
Mine