For mine is a dark and shrouded world...
A Murky shodowed world of unspeakable horors, That retains the unimaginble truths that cause a man to recoil in terrer and revulsion from bouth himself and his fellows a like...
Aye, These are desolate days indeed, Haunting perilous times. Where a man has nothing to look forward to but yet another endless day qureling search of the burreness of ones own soul...
Always have we had our friends, Long have they fired the romantic imagination of both priest and poet alike. At times we called them demans, Later witches and still later, The friends were said to be the hungry wolf or boggeyman...
They tryed to tell us that the monsters didnt exist at all, But we know better, We have made our reacquaintance with the beast and its true name...
I have named the beast and the beast is me...
