With six hundred and sixty six sins on my soul
I am ripe for a rip roaring rapturous rage.
I’ve completed my mayhem. It culminates now.
The next coming of Satan is certain somehow.
We can now disavow the Aquarian Age
As complete devastation has become our goal.
Make me weak in the knees and float lighter than air
As it all becomes darkened through chaos and smoke.
Let the air reach a flashpoint much lower than earth
That our hate may deny any chance of rebirth.
Many folks create horror through dreams they invoke.
We believe they are nothing. In fact, we don’t care.
I’m a beast of this nature that now has a rash
That is acrid and prickly, and sensitive to
All the subconscious inhuman cries of our hearts.
Simply looking within is where true rapture starts.
That our souls are renewable is known by few.
And this world we’re concerned with, someday, will be ash.