"Masterminded for the Pyre."

Mother-fuckers don't like me
because I tell them who they
are

I don't like them or there ways

I look them in the eyes and see
beyond their face; into the shit
that's in their heart; and, DESPISE
who the Fuck they are...

Come True; I don't mean, "Come
as You are,"

(I'm not the Church on the corner;
 and "Yes, I'm talking to You, not
 the Fucking Choir")

"I Know You, You Fuck; Come
Clean and with Heart,"

"Rid Yourself of the Bull-shit Facade;

The False Covering You Wear, that'll
Disappear when You See my Face
and Taste my Harm,"

Taste the Drenching Iniquity; the
Swallowing Calamity of a life that
Weeps in an Eternal, Bottomless
Insanity

No; Maybe this Depravity wasn't intended
for you and I but, this is what we've
Received; I guess with the Heart, man
Conceives and what we feel within, can
transpire into this Material World...

Pool

We are the Lost Souls; the Fallen; the ones
whom said, "Fuck You," to any Calling

Now Hel's opened up her gaping gash and
within Her swollen Desire we'll descend all:
we've been,

"Masterminded for the Pyre,"