To Sermon to the Hypocrites

Ohh, ye whose future is in other hands

Foul feeders, slipped are you on your excrement?

Parasites having the world lousy

Imagine you are of significance to heaven

Sensation, nutrition, mastication, procreation

This is your blind worm cycle

Know ye of nothing further than your own stench

Heaven is indifferent to your salvation or catastrophe

I, who enjoy my body

I would rather pack with wolves

Than enter your pest houses

Sensation, nutrition, mastication, procreation

This is your blind worm cycle

Know ye of nothing further than your own stench

Heaven is indifferent to your salvation or catastrophe

The sword thrust not salve

I bringThe sword thrust not salve

I bringThe sword thrust not salve

I bringHonest was

SodomYour theology is a slime pit of gibberish become ethics

In your world, where ignorance and deceit constitute felicity

Everything ends so miserably besmirched with fratricidal blood

The sword thrust not salve

I bringThe sword thrust not salve

I bringThe sword thrust not salve

I bringThe sword thrust not salve

I bring