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A writhing chaos in a doomed, dead cosmos

Divining evil, malignant radiesthesia

To the point of cold, clear death

A garish death

The ideomotor response of the gods

In the face of their own futility

Orbiting in meaningless revolutions

The qualmish divinities turn, writhe

Exposing the chasms, their entrails spill

Leaking, gleaming ichor

Man himself as God, a provenance unearned

Burn them, the pyre stoked, inferno

Lash them, impertinence absolved

Salve them, rebuild the feeble ego

Invoke them, on the world turn them loose

Man himself as God, a provenance unearned

Burn them, the pyre stoked, inferno

Lash them, impertinence absolved

Salve them, rebuild the feeble ego

Invoke them, on the world turn them loose

The winding path of man, its many cracks

Fissures in the lithosphere

The burning hail, the freezing moon

The gods hang down their entrails

Now see them writhe, see them hang

Swinging from their dripping spires

The morning sun gleams upon the graves

The evening moon greets the bloom of plague

And men beg God to kill them