Of a stark romance,
Where the fat dragons slump,
Oozing black blood,
Blocking the pathways,
And cracking the bridges;
The crazy tort of hell's demons,
Claim the crossroads,
In tattered uniforms,
And bright clanking medals.
Up from the pike,From that furnace of servitude,Beelzebub's infestations party,With fantastical weaponry,Cackle laughs amidst devilish gaiety -Compounded tempests of anger and outburst.
In cut-throat mirth,And snide rivalry,Lascivious gropes,And dark revelry,In compounds of sulfur,And gaseous cavern,Putrid and rank,Crowded and leaden.
Make sweet the stench of Hell's discord;Aright the lies of fruitless promise;Defend,Contend,Amend the curse,That enters the space,Of the pure and the blessed.
Amid the wrangling discontent,Feverish self-important,Self-appointed woes;The tangles,Dark prophesies;Haggard muse,Malnourished seer;In melodies hummed,From the battlefield,Contaminated prayers,Whims and sins,Now living an apology.
And deeper still,The old, but not yet wise,Recite their will over impish minion,That prick and pierce their skin -But with no bloods spill,For their life has long expired.
Unbeknown to they,Entombed in death's embrace,False words like bones,Will not dissolve their space;Such refuse of the insincere,Gives providence its undertow.
Maimed by falsehood,And corrupted by nonsense,Troughs of licensed prophets,Align their charts with Mars.
Bars of gold,Pitted with envy,Are stored in the holds,Of the incongruous wealthy,Along with their souls,And their ledgers of plenty.
The vapors are peppered,With extracts of disease;And ghosts collect tombstones,Of all the lives they have lived.
And blind to the mime,That the angels perform,(For the grace of their shadows,Is flattened by farce),They jip and they jive,With a quip and a song,In mutual longing,This foul avid course.Oh Christ,Thou hath risen!Your Body is real!Your Eyes comprehendeth,The pity of Hell;Your Hand,Lay on good heartsAnd to others do heal,In mercy and vision,Our Life Corporeal!