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Behold! the breathless mouth screaming

Its curses echo in the silent void

For whom does its maledictions belong?

A maelstrom of silence thundering nowhere

A thousand voices crying in agony

Pleading for sweet release of death

Yet death will never come

This is the wage of the fathers' sins

The guilty are hanging

From the killing tree

Behold the spectre of death

Swinging in the wind

The carrion fowl prying supple flesh

Reveal the fruit within

Visions of a land that bears no fruit or water

The prophet wakes from restless wicked sleep

The future beckons its black and poisoned tendrils

Into the now where fertile soil lies waiting

The seed fertilized

By the pollen of sin

Grows til bursting

With the wage of the Antichrist

Its vines crawling out from the spore

Finding purchase in the cracks of mortal's greed

Behold! my wretched, fetid garden

Its soil poisoned by roots of portended death

Tomorrow is a stillborn, rotting in the womb of prophecy

Dead and dreaming of glittering possibilities

Bring forth the torch

Set ablaze these ruinous roots

The vessel of our kind is sinking in the waters

Hope is the fool's errand

The seas will boil

The forests will burn

The decrepit oceans of concrete will splinter asunder

As time weaves its dreadful sorcery

What will remain?

The hubris of monuments crumbling 'neath the weight of the hourglass

The bones of men awaiting revelation

Yet revelation will never come

The graves wait to vomit forth their dead at the sound of the clarion bell

The bell will never ring

God is dead