What hand harvests the soul at death?
What dwells beneath the tomb after the spirit has departed?
What locks the Gate, the serpent's eye?
He who would possess the hidden power must pay homage to those of the Void
And provide the sustenance of their being
Their mantle of flesh long destroyed

In ages past they created bodies of flesh walked the earth
And did bred diverse forms of life
For their nourishment, creatures of their design (Some yet continue upon earth)
Shaped and colored to serve their needs
Their mantle of flesh long destroyed
When life has fled the corpse
In the Void they dwell without a form
Yet their desire for the essence of matter remains and long unremembered lusts
Burn with ravenous ferocity