The Roaring King

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Are masks always just words, in the severance of the selves...?
And all words, but masks from the heart...
All they can tell are lies!
The sigil of the seeker: To live with no regret
The end within beginnings a truth none dare to jest
Excess, gateway to my star-sky
The truth that reveals true beauty to see
Showing me to me
I am Bacchus, I am Aegir, set me free!
Comе, Roaring King!
Shackle my feeble soul and light my way
In my true sеlf:
Alone I am King and I am alone!
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And my dreams the Roar turned slow nightmares
No daybreak seen in years
On a journey forever On a journey Alone
Come! Roaring King
Become Lord Nothing!
My star-sky turned endless night
Imposter! In the court of the Roaring King...
And pain comes to the seeker the birth of true regret
Where saviours of the fallen? What light can pierce the depths?
The death of pride becoming the forlorn truth of death
Undeath... Crushing loneliness!
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I speak no words to answer
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I see no way from here
Back into some tomorrow
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I beg only relief
Only regret and heartache
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Only the mute commands
Of the King once so Roaring
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Still guides the fist, the hand
Thyself, the highest love...
Worship that which daybreak can't bless
Worship what is true
And revel with truer lords
My soul to the roaring king
That's within...
Sating the thirst of the reveller
In bacchanalic groves... In sin