The needle in the eye of the hurricane

The poison in the font

The nail in the coffin of the profane

I am the lot



Maniacal the fire

That weaves inside my should

When dripping tongues of hate, envenomed, roll

Like carpet bombs in vast bazaars

My blood runs with the beasts

Though no crescent, cross

Or wandering star

Shalt witness my defeat



Born of jackal in the Vatican

To a loathsome flock I have crept behind the drapes

And a wizard there is not

Just a white flag blackened by

Singing weapons that have led

A faith that soon dominions over

Desert kingdoms of the dead



I smell the fleur du malcontent

The hellish stench

Of Judas in the dozens



Bouquets for greed and twisted law

Handmaidens of a holy war

Bring on a thousand roses more

I am the thorn

Tangled are the thickets

That spare the virgin heart

From the waking grasp of rapists in the dark



Mountaineers that strive so far

For a Heaven grown from reach

That love herself is fabled

To be missing from their peaks

Save in one sole tower

Where the presence of a rod

Stays the sleeping beauty

From the prying fingers of the mob



I smell the fleur du malcontent

The hellish stench

Of Judas in the dozens



Bouquets for greed and twisted law

Handmaidens of a holy war

Bring on a thousand roses more

I am the thorn



I am the thorn



I am the Spear of Longinus

The sword of Damocles

Kali up in arms, a bleeding sinus

The hammer of the gods in the prophet's teeth



Saint Disgustus, President Evil

Great white hopes of a shark-eyed people

Light of the world now flicker and die



Impaled in the race, in the paling face

Where forked tongues pricked the skies

Choking on these words as I slither to their ear

A lightning strikes their blinded mains



I am not the hand of god...

I am the thorn



Territorial thieves

Ever stealing thunder for religious causes

I will bring you all down to your knees



And fuck you over