Penal laws, state-sanctioned sectarianism
On pagan rocks we outpour hatred for heretics
Lashed to the slave stick, angstridden, gash-riven
Blood courses from you like Sheol’s rivers
You are delivered unto the dismal prince
In visceral urns your liver and innards are stored
While blue flames exhord your cadaver to the lord’s taste
We are of a race evil utterly, soul a darkling butterfly
Flying to flames only in pursuit of extinguishing them
To whom sacred life is a game to play upon
We upraise totems of ten ton stone to the dark one; our city’s eidolon
Hollow-eyed, prizing most the flesh of those who died by grotesque trial.
Alchemisland 
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