Call of the Hellenistic Progeni Video (MV)

In the eye of the storm
A boy was born
With a weight on his shoulders
And from his home, he was torn

Son of Satan, Son of God
False prophets were never much to him
Dithering about the world beyond
A child riddled with agony

Agony

Misanthropic, nihilistic, dilated fantasy
Gorged upon in life, as in death
Incongruous and aqueous by nature
Absent, meandering soul, bereft

Beaten into submission
The lines have been drawn
Hark, the scholars have bidden thee
Summon yourself upon this fateful dawn

Tunneled vision
Breath so pure
In light of what's to come
A malevolence is the cure

A character, not an age
Defining the meaning of man
Erupting from the fires of hell
Burned at the stake for all to see