With no remorse he did confess
To collecting rotted flesh
And sewing it into clothe
From bodies he’s unearthed
Carving items from their bones
Building himself a human throne
Their blood his pungent wine
Nothing less than sublime
For the angel of darkness
He who forces his gospels
On people, to sacrifice
Their bodies, on which he strives
Compelling them to submit
Forever loyal to his ownership


(Photo credit)