Man-made doom bled death from the sky;    to all but a few, salvation was denied    Heavenly father, son and holy ghost,   save your servants (those of us who aren't toast)       The not-yet-dead discovered that to be    a nuclear family means a whole new thing;    All-too-trusting shambling pseudomorphs    put their trust in a man of the cloth       Make them hate you, rotting cleric...   Remember, you are pu of my loins, you are pus       Give voice to your left side, let me in:   I've sawn the seeds of your redemption;   In subhumanicide, I am your guide:   seventy-seven times make them die      The sun is shining on a brand new day   Blackened corpses smolder where they slain;   Self-flagellation prompts him to confess:   Bless me father, for I made this mess      Immolation meant to purify sin wracked souls    Let diseased bodies die; survivors twice lost:    Betrayed in fire, by the Swine of the Cross