The dais from which you reign is seven levels high
Seven mountains, black with soot, clutching at the blood-laden sky
Seven hordes, seven horrors, seven times to face the night
But the rage within my soul has seven times their might!

Into the crimson lash I bend my will
Into a storm of claws and fear
But I am unbowed and
My wrath grows
Ever hotter and fiercer still.

Then…

Amidst the shrieking carnage of my progress
On the last of seven levels
Is unveiled the pinnacle of Your cruelty:
My wife…my daughter…

Against me are arrayed
And their features are crippled with hate,
The swords of bone they wield
Rend me deep with every thrust,
For all my rage is no defence
Against the cutting edge of guilt:
“Where was I? Where was I?”

Gloating, you descend upon my broken form
Malignancy roils before you like a cloud of poison:
And in your shadow, they writhe again
And in your shadow, they die again
Accelerated plague to claim them once again
And I lose them…and I lose them once again.

Too late
You realize Your mistake:
What You thought would crush me
Only re-ignites me
And from my eyes I pour forth fire!

Rising to my feet again!
Rising to my feet again!

I will finish what I’ve begun -
I will finish what I’ve become.