Listless dregs of a dying soul

Flayed and abused by the poisons of life

Rancid cloyed steam of  wet tumour, red coals

Cold vapour of ruin, of horror, of strife

Fearful shadows of pain and of  blight

Crystallized steel at the blade of the knife

Cracked voices that howl at the edge of the night

Come death! Blessed cure for the torment of life

Noxious the odour of  long rotted thoughts

Their ragged wet fibres I’ll weave as a shroud

A fine garment of death for the pilgrim we bought

The evil in flesh who speaks now aloud

See! See the pained glory of  meat in the pot

A huddle of monkeys brings blade to the flesh

In rank concentration against god do they plot

Their dark chthonic spells our souls do enmesh

Of blood and of semen and spears and of gold

Of rapine and murder and ships and of gales

Of shouts to great Zeus on the breath of the bold

Of these things are wrought all of humankind’s tales

Within the tight coffin of life  we are caught

Shut off from the icy cool dark of night’s hell

With only one thing can our freedom be bought

Flow blood! Cease Heart! I relinquish the shell

The dregs of my mind tore open the rift

Compelled and stirred up by a surfeit of beer

My mind to my demons I made as a gift

Leaving me lost, deluded, quite queer.