Beyond the black peaks of Kith
and wastelands of old
Beyond the hills of standing stones
is a region of eternal dark and cold
There is a man who lives there
or so they say
In a broken home by the ocean...lost in lunacy
He's a priest to the one who sleeps...Blind Azathoth...
Who dwells...
Within the Central Void
the slumbering miasma resting uneasily
To the beat of cursed drums and
alien melodies played upon flutes of bone
this God sleeps within his throne...
The madman will tell you
"Our existence is HIS delusion...
For so many years I have kept this place
safe for you and me...and all of life
For if HE wakes, creation ends
Within the Central Void only he will remain
Writhing, Gnashing, Dreaming
Blind God of outermost blight
Seething, Churning, Primeval Chaos
We must sate his sleep, or endure this fate
Beyond the wastlands of old
There's a lunatic by the sea
Insane from the truth he knows
Guarding Reality!
