The needle in the eye of the hurricane   The poison in the font   The nail in the coffin of the profane   I am the lot      Maniacal the fire   That weaves inside my should   When dripping tongues of hate, envenomed, roll   Like carpet bombs in vast bazaars   My blood runs with the beasts   Though no crescent, cross   Or wandering star   Shalt witness my defeat      Born of jackal in the Vatican   To a loathsome flock I have crept behind the drapes   And a wizard there is not   Just a white flag blackened by   Singing weapons that have led   A faith that soon dominions over   Desert kingdoms of the dead      I smell the fleur du malcontent   The hellish stench   Of Judas in the dozens      Bouquets for greed and twisted law   Handmaidens of a holy war   Bring on a thousand roses more   I am the thorn   Tangled are the thickets   That spare the virgin heart   From the waking grasp of rapists in the dark      Mountaineers that strive so far   For a Heaven grown from reach   That love herself is fabled   To be missing from their peaks   Save in one sole tower   Where the presence of a rod   Stays the sleeping beauty   From the prying fingers of the mob      I smell the fleur du malcontent   The hellish stench   Of Judas in the dozens      Bouquets for greed and twisted law   Handmaidens of a holy war   Bring on a thousand roses more   I am the thorn      I am the thorn      I am the Spear of Longinus   The sword of Damocles   Kali up in arms, a bleeding sinus   The hammer of the gods in the prophet’s teeth      Saint Disgustus, President Evil   Great white hopes of a shark-eyed people   Light of the world now flicker and die      Impaled in the race, in the paling face   Where forked tongues pricked the skies   Choking on these words as I slither to their ear   A lightning strikes their blinded mains      I am not the hand of god...   I am the thorn      Territorial thieves   Ever stealing thunder for religious causes   I will bring you all down to your knees      And fuck you over