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Tainted by tautology

Are only the incoherent rhapsodies of knaves

Why does the sacrificer forthwith not offer his own father? Beneath a swarm of flies

And amid the offal, abide with me

Abide with nothing and rejoice

Abide with me and despair

And scorn the base

Upon which their ranting is built

The abyss is elucidating

To the inquiring mind

Vane waste of matter

Encompasses chasms of solitude

Fetid odour of burnt animal horn

Revered by luke-warm evocations

And deadened susceptibility

To all sensate impressions must be

What is derided by those

Who relish in the comfort of their putrid abode

Tainted by tautology

Are only the incoherent rhapsodies of knaves

Why does the sacrificer forthwith not offer his own father

Beneath a swarm of flies

And amid the offal

Abide with me

Abide with nothing

And rejoice