I hear no song in this silent city.
The hymnal lullaby of antiquity now faded echoes of a dying angel shackled and gagged; silenced by a deafening roar of arrogance.

The anthem of the serpent’s tongue deconsecrating light.

This land is the death of love, a graffitied labyrinth of smog that lines our lungs with every second-hand breath.
Stymied inhalation, ethereal degeneration.

The wretching wise speaking in alien tongues.
A vomitous lexicon of spiritual decline.

Sterile signals from a satellite, the pulsating chorus of atonality; encoded passages of deterioration.
An unholy communion, the cleric’s doctrine disgorged in binary; a funereal tome that inspires a longing for the grave.

The light at the end of the crooked path, tranquility in the tomb; the silence in death.

I saw a mirage! A beacon in the fog, an angel wrapped in rays of light, a revelation!
Offering refuge for surrender; a golden collar.
Singing a sadist's song, dulcet tones of servitude.

Bring me back there, give me light, take my eyes so I can see.
Sing to me the sweetest song, a lullaby of subjugation.

Weaned from the altar by the authors of tenebrosity, larcenists of serenity;
disfiguring the blank face of the spirit that brought me some semblance of meaning.

Engulf me in saccharine rain, adorn my body with a golden halo!
Purge my eyes of what I’ve seen; twin pillars of white wrapped in two snakes, a creaking staircase into the soil.

Bring me some semblance of meaning
Drown me in saccharine rain.
Adorn my corpse with a golden halo.