Viscera exits the hole,
Uncontrolled,
The heat hits the cold,
Meat exposed.
I see your soul,
Retreat incomplete.
Sound the repeat, my sweet,
For one more crimson burst!
Flesh of the accursed blurts
Rapture in reverse,
Rehearsed, one last
Taste of pain.

Bring on the Son,
For some must die young…
Bring on the Sun,
Disciples of none.

Locked and loaded, cock-sure,
[simper fi! do or die!]
One by one a bolt between the lobes!
[gung ho!]
Ooh! It makes the grass grow!
See! It makes the grass grow:

Blood!

Behold the non-generation,
They canonize war,
[war without ending]
Behold, the uncogeneration
Panegyrize war;
Wasting and wanting the more.

Bring on the son,
Disciples of none!

Behold! The path of the
Righteous engenders the corps,
[feed for the ether]
Behold! The head of
The righteous all covered in sores,
Marked by the dawn of the day.

Bring on the sun,
Disciples of none.

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