The son of God is birthed through singularity
Prophecy deems Him light at the apocalypse
Yet all His plans are to escape responsibility

Bapitized by the Creator Himself
For Him Jörmungandr elucidates fortuity
Taught by the Angle of Red on war in its truest
But they all forgot humanity

He never spared a thought for ants at His feet
Himself is His only devotee
He splits into a thousand beings
Acting as every species
Spreading paradox, stalking the cracks of destiny

The face of the clock grows blackened wings
Crows swarm and carry lies in their beaks
Through the entire world tolls his bell
Apocalypse looms on the horizon
He aims to ascend the throne of Mysteries

It should have been an easy game
Carefully He plans, expecting the end
Yet why does it drift, the path of fate?
Why does He fail?

The monocle is crushed into powder
The most elaborate prank disappears
The God of Mistake makes a mistake
Dismissing the truest theory
Defeated by brightest humanity

The vanquished may do nothing but concede
Helpless against the exhales of world's end
He chooses to explore the stars
To travel the endless universe
To learn the meaning of sacrifice and courage, as he never thought to need