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In

In the coffin of my mind

Is a vehement pallate of hatred

No man or woman

Can even comprehend

The disease is misanthropy

And my name is he

Cutting their throats

The pictures in red

Sounds from another plain

Lights disgorged from their Bearers

I spill their blood

Always forgotten

Always undone

Beings of Him, the imperfect

Failure to see His euphoria

The night is my vehicle

The instrument of bloodshed

I crawl from room to room

Sentencing them to pay

Rosary of the Devil

Riveted 'round my neck

Sacrificial bondage

The night of the unclean

Ritual of despondency

Burden of life

Tortured by Him, Guided by the Adversary

No more mere mortals

Only the dead

Ashes of the innocent, torn