A sticky wicked place where a crown of thorns holds no mastery over magic or any ancient wisdom,
Beyond those impenetrable walls of divine kingdoms and faithful Christendom,
That cold horrid place where truth flounders in a shallow plastic mire,
That harmful toxic state where honest rain renders truthful thirst a wanton desire,
So with that gelatinous frosting the path is greasy throughout that godforsaken shire,
Trojan spells corrupt the very desert sand where good wishes from Eden were once spoken,
Soon harried warrior bones shall gather together, droning whilst they moan about glory, then crumble into dust,
Just like every wanton lie spoken, like each and every shiny promised token.
Wild horses race ahead of treachery while the earthly world is afire in that hateful stead,
Caught up and blazing, there is no comfort to be found in that morbid guise,
Hellfire breeches hell's gate, aggravating and consuming the already burning skies.
So much for goodness and heaven's prayers, as insensitive charlatans continue to rise,
Ghouls in all their fame and glory, like the walking dead,
Heartless and cold blooded, vampires waiting for night to fall,
Lying void and unstaked in their graveyard bed.
Overcome by shadows that follow me home,
Those vague mysteries that haunt my being,
Attached to my ragged ends like curious elves and gnomes,
Those splintered trends I've dragged behind, I'm forever seeing,
Fragmented songs and stories, those broken bits and pieces,
With all their wants and needs, like hungry orphaned beings,
Lost children with outstretched hands, desperate nephews and nieces,
Dressed in tattered clothes, hungry shadows with pleading eyes,
Begging for Love's compassion, craving ease from Hunger's constant needing.