home sweet home
a babylonian recluse
my own christ over run
parasite ridden exsistence
apathy over turned
my grave stone
scribled with prayers
shackled to bone by rosary
and the days stand on end
their spines bent into spirals
warping mind into illusion
but we all bear our crosses
wilderness stricken
the wolves hunting
the blood of demons
the church's right hand
crosses your face
with the force of nature
so bury that hatred with a hatchet
drown that resentment in IBU
and become the beast
you have hidden beneath
that fragile flesh.
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