The Decapitator’s Prayer
O decapitator!
(It is) not ye who slew them
When thou threwest a handful of dust
O decapitator!
Victorious with terror
In knife-edge genuflection
"Smite ye their necks."
Behold the disgusting power of the optimists heart
Where he held his fevered dreams
To the relevant drops of original blood
Know God, no peace; when the time calls forth the speakers;
(In a) Sеlf-righteous, self-pitied, sеlf-hatred
The servant and the compeller
The iconoclast and the architect
"They are from them, they are of them"
Are these the kind of swine we're meant to live for?
In this terminally demented pit of rats
Not worthy of the lowly trough that feeds them
Rotting in the last ditch of Eden