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Martyr, lashed to the stone

Retching in torment

Succumb, as you're hung by the throat

Enduring ungodly ruin

Stay the tongue that spews bile from your mouth

Searing skin as I'm stabbed in the back

You'll rot for your feeble, impious attacks

Thee of Bile

My head seams in two

My mind spawns forth the Dirge

My hands, bound to the rocks

My palms, psalms, and the brand

Dirge

Nexus of liturgy

Voices and whimpers crumble under my Word

My palms, bound to the rocks

My soul, chained to the mire

A newfound avarice in your God

Believe me, In time, you'll grovel in flocks

In time, you'll pay for what you've done to me

The urge to be reborn

My mind, the Chthonic Abyss

My delusions of grandeur

There is none more deafening than my command

Grovelling cunt