The whore perverts all things.
What she thinks is love is mere folly,
A folly she passes on to boys that catch her eye.
 Hora is the bane of man,
Thief of the soul,
Reaper of the weak.
 Naively, she plucks Cyrus’ son
from the pyres, and ruins him –
ruined like all men born of woman.
 Hora is the fall of man,
The evil temptress,
The black heart of womanhood.
 Blinded, the son of Cyrus is enslaved,
Lost in her false beauty and wicked heart.
He will serve her until the end of time.
 Hora is the seed of fancy,
Stealer of sanity,
Phony redeemer of her sex.
From The Book of Cyrus, Songs of the Tioch, ch. 1, verses 1-6