When the four horsemen ride.
I die a little inside.
I drink from my chalice.
Within my palace i sit.
The ark sits upon my cross.
Where the twelve disciples dwell.
Reaching the one eye.
I can not deny.
The christos flows.
As above and so below.
The pinecone resonates within.
The Jordan river flows.
The oil does ignite.
It illuminating my crown.
From the town of bread up into my head.