The Seal of the Seven Jackals

Bats send glad tidings of blood Thirty and three, they are the stairs The seventh tongue, the seventh head Fall to the sand Now you shall pass I'm the first light, since the last light of the priest's sacred torch I'm the first voice, since the last voice spoke prayer Three hundred centuries ago A noxious, acrid scent The concentrated essence of death These walls read like a dreadful manuscript Blasphemous statements that chill the soul Threats against the reigning religion and those who uphold Blind eyes bask in the darkness Dust falls from a stoney brow Canine features crumble Stone lips, curl in smile He's alive And watched the glory slip by to a babe in a basket and bush of fire From the sands my people tread to the fjords of the north I call for a renaissance of primal gods