Gods of old unsilenced
Their temples from the foundations of a ribald new way
Hybrid malison scattered
Mechanical aim directed towards the lowest possible trait
Merchants of absolution sanctify doctrines of sophistry
But a part of the current declivity's rancid third caste
I have dared to explore the outer regions
of mankind's self-encirclement
And despite circumspection will not survive
the judgement of nine
Prosaic flocks accede to commands in tongues unknown
In purest raiment they lead me to d**h
Final wisdom imparted to those a**embled
Spikes are thrust from beside and below
A bloodied cross formed in integument
For how could bread become flesh?
And wine become blood
Shall salvation be sought in parochial bounds?
For asking these things will I burn
Roped around a wooden post
Chin-high is piled parched fuel
In this fetishistic call for unity,
is weakness to be questioned again
Ashen am I! Incineration of matter
repression of the anomalous
Keepers of ancient knowledge
Of what little survived the flames
of Alexandria and Carthage
These fools revile the wise,
The thoughtlessness arrogate cogitation
Vision stifled by the blind
For on the bread of suffering
and the water of tribulation
Did I bridle my racing mind
for seven years of darkness