Call the ancient ones.
Build them into the foundations
Primitive guides
Who live only to maintain their blood
Feeding from their coward existence
To strive for power
To convince you
Of a better future
To come
They teach you
How to feed them
Still you do not ask why
Making their large yellow eyes
Ordering you to chant
Until a state of insanity
Ritual death
You sacrifice, without choice
The eleventh element
The only exit
The limbless crawl together to give birth
You're drained in front of their dead eyes
The fleshly expression of might
You look upon the scene
As a spectator
But forget you're the one lying in the altar
Guided by the foundation stones
Into your oblivion
They teach you, how to feed them
Still you do not ask why
Making their large yellow eyes
Makes you to chant, until a state of insanity