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Under the roots of the wisest tree was born

Nourished and nourished by the dry fruits of death

Taught by the sounds of agony

Bathed in the blackest blood

Fed by the purest flesh

Excited by the cry of the weak

Raises its claw to feel the wind

And so it begins...

Used to feel the cold ... cold essence of the void

Buried under countless corpses and ashes

Digging his way up to the surface

Guided by his instinct fostered by evil.

Now he comands his demons

As he was born ,to end his creators

Now their eyes see no more than black

Feeling their bodies fall in a depthless hole.