The Knight:
The world I love is the world I lost
Broken, plundered and wasted
The memory burnt
From the Soil and the Sun
A black epitaph of the ages
The Rose:
The world you curse
Is the one I love
The Virgin a Whore
In the Garden
Crowned upon the Earth's ordure
I bear no wounds
And I bring no cure
The Cross:
Pain is where this world begins
And pain is the heart of all endings
Every pilgrim that bears
This burden of truth
Only the few have learnt to lose
The Knight of the Rosy Cross:
I curse the Father
And I scourge the Son
I burn down the Holy of Holies
The One in Three
And the Three in None
The march of the proud Black Templar