Given to crescent moon
   Chaldean echoes of spectral gloom
   Like a pen pal of the gods
   No horns no reply
   Flowers of sorcery
   Like pearls before the swine
   Defying space and time
   Sez the pineal gland of mine
   Like,
   Given to dreaming witches´ lie
   It´s sweet to close your weary eyes
   Given to pentacles and more
   Drunk with the blood of the whore
   Gimme some Metatron
   Damn my immortal soul
   But show me something that I don´t know
   Gimme some Metatron
   Given to waning moon
   Septuagint whispers of impending doom
   Cautes and Cautopates
   A shit load of bad ass deities
   Wore out my shovel
   Burying monsters where they popped up
   And it´s OK
   Doesn´t matter anyway
   For Babalon above
   For Babalon below
   Gimme some Metatron