Madman makes presence here, hither-to unknown he swears to a market of the everyday, will they hear his proclamation? Accusations of murder unfold, will they confess? There have been no witnesses here to the casual demise of prayer smitten-down by the everyday, death-bound path of sunless existence atrophy of the soul, and Nihil is home, will they awaken? Nay, they shall not breathe the prophecy! Nay, they wish not to scan the silent scene...for the evidence to this clandestine crime all they have are our beautiful, irrefutable, stagnant still-born cries!
This is it, you have no alibi. Isolated, they have exhumed your greatest fear, we as the broken, wish to voice but one request, with with this desolate hearing may resign, we urge you to find solace 'neath the gravity of his death plead guilty, in that man might be revived.
Gott Ist Tot! Götzen dämmerung!
This is evidence to a clandestine crime all we have are our beautiful, irrefutable, stagnant still-born cries.