"What we need is hatred. From it our ideas are born." [Jean Genet]
Consumed by tongues ov fire Burning like Phlegethon Holy gardens reduced to ash Extinguishing light ov hope Bringing the end ov the days
Words ov my gospel scattered Sacrilegious scorn spat in pale creeds Thin is the line between pure being and pure nothing My sole companion Woe to Thee!
At my command: Let the blood ov the infants flood the streets ov Bethlehem!
O ye ov little faith With ethics rotten in a moral cage Dead meat thrown down to the worms To feed religious tumor Corrupting marrow ov repugnant swirl
At my command: Let the blood ov the infants flood the streets ov Bethlehem! At my command: Let the heads ov Samaritan pave my ways!