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Lord Loss sows all the sorrows of the world<br />
Lord Loss seeds the grief-starched trees<br />
In the center of the web, lowly Lord Loss bows his head<br />
Mangled hands, naked eyes<br />
Fanged snakes his soul line<br />
Curled inside like textured sin<br />
Bloody, curdled sheets for skin<br />
In the center of the web, vile Lord Loss torments the dead<br />
Over strands of red, Lord Loss crawls<br />
Dispensing pain, despising all<br />
Shuns friends, nurtures foes<br />
Ravages hope, breeds woe<br />
Drinks moons, devours suns<br />
Twirls his thumbs till the reaper comes<br />
In the center of the web, lush Lord Loss is all that’s left<br />