Prayer of Rot

O sweet lady, why cover thy flowers? Grant them us, who are scorned and spurned. Have we not yet deserved what is ours? Much we lost to deep caves and high towers For a mere dearest petal returned! Didst thou think us that mighty, us only? We're but children, we do need no god But a mother, to cherish her strongly! Didst thou weep for thy children so lonely? Stirs it not thy celestial blood? But alas! Here we wander as orphans, With no mother and shelter to take. Our chapels are cemetery stakes. Cries and howls are our trumpets and organs. Yet we hear - there's a call from the Lake. How it mocks our weepings and prayers! Hungry father, he covets our souls. O sweet mother, come shelter us all! From behind the most hidden of layers Oh, how scar'ly, how loudly he calls! Lo, behold! How we tremble in terror. Didst thou think us that mighty! We're not. Such a cruel, an ignorant error! Grant me strength, o great Lake, not to blame her... Grant me strength. And the blessing of Rot.