Monarch to the beasts,
Plowing silt and soils,
Cultivating death,
Supplicating verses of a pale savior in churches built on blood,
With the sewn together flesh of slaves,
Giving rise to this dominionist juggernaut (bitch).
The authors of genesis and the artisans of dominion,
Buried alive beneath 10,000 years of soot,
Suckling spoiled milk from our Mother's filthy teat.
Praying for their Father as ingots pierce his flesh,
The ashen cross is splashed with the blood of the fallen bitch.
Burn the sheep-skin scriptures that pounds the splintered crucifix into our throats and spread the ash upon the fields.
The parable of Cain must end and the neolithic megamachine will rust...
Burn the impaled head of the Agrarian Jackal as the kingdom becomes dust
