Instrumental in dripping torturous echoes of my mind
I feel the wax begin to melt beneath my feet
And all in all the purest darkest vision I could find
Was viewing there the world as so much meat
An abattoir of friends and faces arching with desire
Towards the very blackened heart they’d ever know
But who am I to turn away those souls destined for fire?
And who are they to think they’d never go?
To be called by a stranger’s name is something never heard
When all who come to reckoning are guilty there
I feel your loins are aching then with punishments deserved
Still pleading upon ears that never care
I tear your soul into the parts that make the human clay
And mould your inner feelings into deadened lead
Create the purest flour from the goodness tossed away
And make you wish that you were never dead