Where are you, Master of the Golden Night?
A wall of mirrors and a secret life.
I get bored rather easily,
With no one here to manipulate and torture.
Who controls the truth controls the lies.
Magick is the order.
I long for Satan, St. Francis, and Pol Pot.
Chaos is the order.
Blizzards, hurricanes, and rising waters.
We filled our skies with smoke and poisoned all our waters.
The Serpent says:
To what avail?
I said before:
There is no order!
We filled the ovens with the Adamites and the Cainites.
Now we’ll settle for the desert kings.
Sure, why not? – Murder is murder.
Who is Job and who is Cain?
It’s really all quite funny and insane.
And now that the human meat wheel’s stopped,
Let’s summarize our common tale.
Ridiculous, worthless, and profane.
For broken is the Sacred Code.
They’ll find no bodies, carcasses, or corpses.
You’ll see Jane of Arc in her fiery gown.
There’ll be flames in the sky, and the Lord’s eternal frown.
But no prophets left to ask Him why.