We were the Titanic ballad

Prometheus is a trickster, and yet I, the Devil am but a small child rearing the world o'er my head.
His thoughts were rearing an Angelic revenue as he streamed the false prophecies I had created in order to create a certain Antigone to the Game.
My thoughts are blurred because I am scizhorprenic, but my heart is pure. His heart, defiled as it is, is the purest mix of a leprechaun and a stallion steed.
My heart echoes. The goddess Peorth is a parody, while my reincarnation's true formation is safe between my younger, angelic brother's torso.
I glimpse into the Twilight. Who am I? Ah, yes. I am Spider-Man.