The lighting of candles, the reciting of scrolls. The pointing of swords, the great gong tolls. From each point of the pentagram, I produce the sound of bells, And from within the circle emerge the fiercest winds of Hell. An invocation to the Master; it brings a sense of peace, And as I speak these words, I fall humbly to my knees. As I move into the circle, I feel immediately possessed. For there is a strong, burning hatred growing deep inside my chest. The Hellish winds grow stronger, and begin a circular motion. I feel as if I'm taken over by some evil, magical potion. I speak an incantation, and my hatred burns even worse. As the presence of evil grows stronger, I speak the final verse. Then a voice interrupts my thoughts, and tells me the way things must be. It is at that moment that I realize, the daemon I've been summoning... ...Is buried deep inside of me.