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You spell yourself into existence, thrown into harshly welcoming ground
you abhor its meanings and means thrusted to you, a form of insect is born
its multiple eyes all wretched and vain, its silver tongues tells you only fictions
it latches itself unto something salaciously, and leeches all the life, all the blood

For your mothers were all whores, whose sons are bastards by name
and your fathers were all lecherous drunks, who raped or got lucky once
your dwelling was a heap of trash, filled with trivial waste
the world has abused all of us, and yet you submit to it

A being of insect, of all the wills and powers
devoid of bowels, but only straws and borrowed parts
for what is fire, if not a flame that burns most bright
reduced to a tinder to appease your lack of might

For your mothers were all whores, whose sons are bastards by name
and your fathers were all lecherous drunks, who raped or got lucky once
your dwelling was a heap of trash, filled with trivial waste
the world has abused all of us, and yet you submit to it

On your deathbed, you beg for infinite mercy - does your god know of your deceit?
in the evening hours, your eyes glimmer in lust - does your god still answer your name?
of the fires and sensations, you choose to be in control, silent will be your soul
don't come to me to repent, with your sour passions decayed, I'm not here to forgive your sins

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