The sacerdotal plague that swept
True innocence aside and laid waste
To cushioned dreams
Lurks close. Barely hidden.
It feels its time will re-emerge
When blackened hearts will give Pious Voice
To Ornate Robes and Reeking Thoughts
With Bloated Hands.
When Darkened Souls should thence surge
Forth in Gluttoned Feast
To pat, pat, pat the dirge… diseased
That clings with ease to the scaled
Sweating spine of their Foul Prophet.
Let Forceful Fate damn them all
To the Hell from where they’ve drawn
Their Obscene Beast