"Χαρων (Kharon) Row your Boat of Bones; Persephone beckons me to Her Shores."

Fuck it now; I'm willing to pass
my, "I don't give a Fucks," out

Days happen when you're at the
ropes end

You wrap it around your throat
but even that fucking cthonic,

"Angel of Death," ain't, I guess
ready for you to pay your dues

"Fuck you Kharon, Fuck you
dude; roe that boat of bones
near to me with your oars; the
rod whereby you guide us shades
across to Hades shores on the
stream Acheron

I've already came to terms with the
fact that if Pearly Gates be, they
ain't awaiting for an entrance from me

Sealed shut; closed up tight; the
fiery sword that their Mythology
claims,

"Turns in all directions to prevent
unlawful entry by the dogs and the
maggots," has my name on it and
has been commanded with an decree,

"Cut the Bastard into if he
were to try and break through,"

So,

Even though it seems

"Angel of Death, I ain't, I guess
ready to yet pay my dues, tell
that Fucker Kharon,

Row Your boat of bones near to
Dantalion with your oars; the
rod whereby you guide the shades
across to Hades shores on the
stream Acheron

I've already made my supplications unto
the Wytchboard in the blackness
of the night, when the powers were
strong and the elements aligned

I summoned them forth in my mind
and into the reflection that was cast I
Skryed:

*"Umbris inferis excitentur et egredietur
de loco infimo;

*Quidquid autem ex vobis peto, "Ita fiat,
et sit mihi recurrendum" -

   *Shadows of the Underworld, from your
     deep place be stirred and come forth;

    *Whatever of you that I implore, "So let
     it be done, and let it be my Recourse,"

"Περσεφονη (Persephone), Oh Queen of the
dark abyss "Underworld," I hear stirring within
my bowels, your bowels enticing me with your
Sirens call"

"Command Χαρων (Kharon) the Boatman to bring
me thence; I've in mouth the obolos coin; payment
required to receive me into your abode that'll
himself suffice and grant me passage to the blessed
afterlife, and now for eternity claim my soul,"

Because I'm done with the inconvenience of fucked-up
man; his is an kingdom that is always like the shifting
of unstable sands

Into the bowels and entrails of Περσεφονη (Persephone)
we've all entered; sweet cunt of that Goddess of Spring
agriculture we adore: one taste of it and we're deep in it
to never again emerge

The juices of her fertile bounty that flows, Oh so profusely,
from the Halls and fields of her Home become to us an
intoxicating and insatiable thirst that won't let go but makes
us into her more go