Daydreams swirl, dwell viciously on every sick-fuck crude desire
The heart has ever fired, the delirium for which the brain is wired.
Wending thick through fly-ridden cadaver rot to unstir
the vulgar crossbred melting pot. The upper crust, it is their unsavoury lot.
Lot in life and dotage in death.
Beauty found only in bane of late. Duty calls now, in cold blood to maim
the ill-fated motley ingrate, lying in wait.
Our good priests and zealots come crawling out of their rocks from every corner of the earth.
Dragging their whores by the hair, for sacrifice, to bring to bear, a cleansing of this damnable air.
Orphaned, bastard children exhaling this damnable air.
Fire-born witches and thirsty beasts ceased long ago, to grace us nightly with their presence for fear of a kindness done, a retreat won by sycophantic human error.
Marching on fresh births, praying our souls wont get in the way
Orderly queues to have our hearts cut out grow longer day by day.