I exist in that vast swirling chaos
That lies between the planes.
Where Azathoth keeps the dread Black Book
That covertly keeps so many names,
All signed in blood. Nyarlathotep,
Envoy from that great and teeming madness
Vile tentacles draw the victim into blackness
And that insanely formless void.
An incessant, demented piping
Does fill that wretched realm.
Some grotesquely fabulous, inhuman flautist
Meagre mortal senses overwhelms,
With some mocking parody of music
That claws at the spirit and does hideously entrance,
Leading the soul in an unwilling, malformed dance
Through this maddening abyss.
Now what form of forbidden art
Hath brought you here to me,
To gaze upon such nameless things
As human eyes should never see?
Such horror! The nightmare circles close around you
And I, the crawling chaos, shall consume your mind.
For what resistance may your frail heart find
Before the monstrous throne of Azathoth?
So step forward pale dreamer
To make thine sanguine pledge