Quietus

Cleanser

Quietus
If I had a bullet for all the sins against me,
I would have murdered them all!
If blades could reveal my thoughts,
Entrails would line the earth!

May the saviour come!

Mankind holds emptiness in its heart
Of the black, I lift my sword
Kneel before me and confess, priest!
May the truth come out in your blood!

I will rid you of your sins
You are cleansed as I cut your throat!

Your butchered corpse offered to me
Sins taken with the stench of burning skin
You hypocrites, repent to your master!
On bended knee as your body falls to soil

Souless, you shall be cleansed!

Your stains of filth cannot be washed
Mental convulsions take you over
Possessed, you reach for a blade
Lacerations falling in bloodsoaked layers--
Stripped of flesh!

I will rid you of your sins
Your stained flesh is your offering
I will devour your sins
Your hypocritical soul cannot be cleansed except by its death!

Fallen structures of man
Screaming as they feel themselves rot
Hanging by their necks on inverted crosses
Nails piercing the skin as the blood drains
Into the spiraling pit of black fire
Scorching flesh peels off in the oblivion
Praying to their god for forgiveness
But he cannot hear them because it's too late!
As they are devoured!

I will rid you of your sins
Confess, priest, as you fucking rot!

Flesh, blood, and spirit sucked from their skeletons
As I now forgive them!

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