Unblessed Be

We strike as wolves from the thickening fog

To exalt our throne ove the stars of God

Lowly holy goats bare the brunt

Of rabid dogmas on a stellar bearhunt

Bastioned in citadels and monastic cells

That smell of blessed cunt

Like a convent where crosses rust

From thirty dirty habits of shaved nun

There where deeper needs are begged of lust

And cess and less impress enough

Obtaining the ord of Our Gaurdian, Anger

And Death's tunnel vision

Bad thing in collision

The locking of eyes and jagged antler...