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Desperate crows of a preacher

Pleading for it's creator

Bearing no responsibility

A charade

Moving it's tongue amongst victims

Silencing those who witness

Foul misery with no conscience

Dark desires in abundance

Cut the tongue

Sever the head

Pin the limbs

Bind the legs

Boil the horror

In an iron pot

Evil will

Come to a stop

Salt the wounds

Gouge the eyes

We've had enough

Of all your lies

It taketh, it taketh

And we take it back

Self preservation and pleasure

Rotten husk barely there

Under robes, tentacles are kept taught

Imminent to strike

With no thought

Side stepping danger in guise

Convincing all it's lies