Funerals Drenched in Apathy

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A steeple of needles thrust into our eyes
So scholars might say we were blinded by pride
Like the sin of Our Father (and the whims of our kind)
Whom in Isaiah and Midian thrived
Regaining His sights for the storming of skies...

And after descenturies have crawled, vilified
Our dark harkened day on spread wing now arrives

For eternity is a coprophagic
Backward figure head
Gorging on Her own bitter end
And We have eaten shit...

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Xasthur en Octubre