Bitter things seek meaning

Even if they're madness to behold

Once forbears to horizons

Where the dead stayed dreaming

Now nightmares waken souls

That fear the living's toll



Gova, Bosch and Brueghel

Three times moonwise stain thy graves

For words alone are at loss to trace

The face of today's inhuman wraith



One half adrift in the vast abyss

Of despair and misery

The other a mask of rich red lips

Whetted by the fevers of belief and greed



All damned in this inferno

Where even Virgil averts his eyes

From the black mass mutual gang rape

Of Caesing hands an forced divides



Trespass these seven gates

To a world bloodlet to shades

Where Seraphim bleat

In the seweres of Babylon

Stillborn to a trough anon

Chimiracles will hatch like plots

To dredge faeces to pearl their cross



Enter Penteholocaust

Five aeons past, yet still Man grasps

At final straws to save his cast



His Lord is a leper we shall not want

He betrayed us with white lies

His acrid pall as of the tomb

Reminds us how we rot inside



Gutted like fool's paradise

Glutted on cruel appetites



Holding court to chaos

Folding to far graver arms

A downfall fatal to all resounds

As orgies peak in self centred psalms



And nature screams her sufferings

Under bowed and cankered wings

A bleak scorched Earth necrotica burning

Like the robes we've torn from her



She begs us lay her pain to rest

Lest we are left with nothingness

Save for her stripped and ravished flesh



And if her fate is not portent of Apocalypse

Will surely cleanse of wrongs and reichs

When you and I and all else dies



It's rotting down

This carcass Maggotropolis



Interdependent as worms to the grave

Allah's true name is naught

Chist cannot save

Locked in a waltz of evermore frantic steps

Spells of regret

Death Magick for Adepts



Be prepared to fulfill prophecies

The glorious fall of a sin dynasty



Gutted like fool's paradise

Glutted on cruel appeitites



We've woven hearts a thorn arbour

Left tear streaked reason upon the shore

Set out for this World's end

Few at the prow, most slave below

Painting coal a perfect gold

But for all it's worth, the engines slow

Dead in the brine again

Prey to phallus seas

That hiss and foam to douse disease

A storm roars on the way

Blacker than the Ace of Rapes

Dealt out by Death in darkwood glades

Our ship of fools, all boards handmade

Sinks, dashed by seismic waves