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Soon the end will come
Like all prophecy
Doomed to repeat these lines
Existential doubt for all eternity

And when the faithful know the holy throat
They will answer the call
Stampeding to the silent avian ghost

And when the penny drops it weighs a ton
On the eyes of your skulls
Enough pennies to pay the Boatman
Enough ballast to sink his boat

We are all just protrusions into this place
Feed me your weak. Feed me your helpless.
Their joy will be eternal.

Eternal
Infernal

Compelled by the clattering, the grandeur in his eyes
When the stork does call a man, he bids him "come 5nd die". . .
"Who will come to me?"
"Who will come to me?"
The stork does not direct his call
I follow willingly

Our reckoning is here
And he will see right through your soul with a compound eye
The prophesies were true
In truth we never knew
but now we are the first in line to sacrifice

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