I walk against the south western
Pestilential wind in the desert
With scorching sand whirling upon my skin
I manifest through nightmares
Becoming a vision of the demon
I consecrate your scorpion tailed image
In this deathlike lamp where the cold winds
Cause death to cattle and crops devoured
By the wings of scorched sand
In the darkness the subconsciousness and
The consciousness communicate
I received a vision
To form in clay a mask
Of your demon face
To complete my black testament
A mask which speaks to the reflection and
Incarnates my soul
A mask...

INVIA LE CORREZIONI