Dirge Inferno

"Carrion my name for those who choose to mouth the curse. A tragic serenade with Judas in my stride. The Gothic halls of shame where statues coldly hold no worse than the murders I reclaim from a dark forsaken time." Kissing Heaven spent he wipes lips free of his hectic discharge, wishing to repent for the brute that ravaged free. In slight hands beauty weeps, conquest's deep methodical screwing hurt repeatedly like the world wound at his feet. Dirge inferno! Dirge inferno! As it is written, damn it, so let it be wrung! From throats of those in overthrow the past at last has come. A savage bite without respite pervades the freezing air, this winter chill grist for his mill if tears of joy will blear elsewhere. And church bells drown in the cracks of doom, the storms above us hew as lightning runs like bifurcate tongues deflowering two by two. Hissing malcontent he storms the skies on electric discharge, pissing in contempt on the effigies of the weak. Killing all resolve, the great beast simmers his scarlet women. Spit their vitriol on the terrified face of peace. Dirge inferno! Dirge inferno! As it is written, damn it, so let it be wrung! From throats of those in overthrow the past at last has come. A hellbound heart, the rose and thorn have locked to hasten blood. The moon disrobes to harden droves of legions pouring. These rivers press, his breath adorns senates and enemy seats whilst his power takes as ingratitude the writhing of the weak. The writhing of the weak! "Wormwood my name! The poisoned star that fell to Earth, and blistered free of shame in the pits of self-rebirth. Now those caves become a garret, overseeing endless barracks as the waters turn to claret, and the Vatican satins burn."