From the shoulders of giants, I stoke the fire, the occultic symbol of my spiritual desire
to stand in defiance, and shatter the moulds that would quell my convictions for the truths I uphold . . .
I am the Satan of Self; I am the Warrior: beneath my mask is something stronger . . .
I am the Seer of Truths; I am the Conjurer: for the triumph of my will I hunger . . .
On the empty roads ahead, I tread with confidence: the gall of a rebel yell, and an untamed impudence,
the metaphorical weapon of my rogueish stance that I proudly brandish, to herald my impending advance . . .
I am the Satan of Self; I am the Warrior: beneath my mask is something stronger . . .
I am the Seer of Truths; I am the Conjurer: for the triumph of my will I hunger . . .
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