Blood steam rising in chilled air The bucket, maroon, overflowing Eyes flicker and face turns sallow Books cast aside to wield the blade The shrieks deafen as life subsides There is no God In pig killing There is no God In blood spilling There is no God Smoke steam billowing in stagnant air The wheels, quicksilver, turning Mind wanders with heart hollow Life cast aside to wield the book The last gasp of hope; weak and frail There is no God In pig killing There is no God In blood spilling There is no God