At dawn they arrive, cardboard idols
Bound by plastic and stacked to the sky.
Those who behold their awesome height,
Stand in awe as they lean, as if,
Threatening to fall and crush the Earth below.

The darkest secrets lie,
Held within their profane chambers,
Colder than the freezer’s touch,
They gaze in silent glaring hatred.

Here we stand,
Architects of a new morning,
Scissors in hand, we stab at plastic seals,
Ripping deep inside, we enter their depths,

The knowledge of the ancients,
Observed by gleaming eyes,
Their profane secrets,
Fulfill us deep inside.
We, as witnesses to glory,
Are burdened by insane thoughts.

One by one, these cardboard idols fall.
Torn to their graves below,
Stocked upon sacred shelves,
And fed to consuming swine.

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