Pechè

Wings cloaked stigmatic whips of its lamenting glory    
Let each whip be the chasten shadow of my bloodline stories          
To cast thy first stone          
Place of paradise, where redemption of fallen grace always roam        
Hell, on earth as you could, taste, feel, see        
Illuminated for those who wish not to believe, yet on their knees      
I have never understood the chaos of anyone’s mind      
To reach across the sands of time      
And degrade the presence of anyone’s mission when Earth and Hell shall entwine      
Hearts of stone, uncaged as they hellish roam          
Remain standing strong, why the meek sings such painful Psalms          
Wailing in the belly of the beast, the last breath inhaled, vessel gone          
        
Mentalities running, to the Pandora Box of the 33rd degree          
The hushed secrets to the core of existence to set the spiritual laws of the soul free          
No other place that accommodates such sinful needs        
Wicked deeds          
Implantation of ungodly generational seeds        
Jezebels with hidden tails      
Bathing in the abyss of depravity sent up from the stairway of hell      
The seven deadly sins, oh yes, they’re real          
As an earthly Angel, my skin tattered as lashes I feel          
Lucifer is within the mind, flames igniting the destructive torch of thy righteous heart          
Right and Wrong, God’s true purpose given from the beginning of time in its natural and purest state of art          
        
Angels, yes, we see, bow under grace, for the sins of you and thee          
Roaming unaware from sunrise to sunset spreading the divine doctrine to be          
Yet, the Book Of Revelations gives you the seven seals, seven churches, and the pale horse          
Death and destruction follows its course          
Cast of its evil intent, no remorse      
Strife from the life you lead, covet in shame by the beliefs of the heart’s choice      
     
This New World Order chants for the doctrination of the horned beast      
The cries from ancestral cotton fields, smallpox placed in infant sheets      
Lineage denigration, mass killings, famine, its glorious birth, fame of a sinful feast          
In the face of spite withering age, hatred only brings the telltale sings of crows feet      
Dog bags and sagging skin      
The beauty of Heaven is not in the illusion of a rose garden in Eden, it is the heart, the mind, the creation of its beautiful origin      
     
Identities in the mist of stress, when a soul cannot find the light to renew    
Deranged mentalities, lingering in the midnight hour, crying the blues      
Trying to hold on to the last reminise of a failed youth      
Time waits for no one and that is the living truth      
We all search for that wonderous connection      
A spark of love, hope, dreams without hesitation      
Pillars of salt thrown in the favorable mix      
Judgments of presence while learning from the same sky, voices allocating to be the next hit      
     
In carnage, the serpent cries when his tail flips        
Intellectual of wisdom devoid of his true gifts          
Given from the Crown of thy head          
Sex, Fornication its salacious duality, when blind minds have been put to bed          
Your actions, your self-damnation, your two-edge sword mouth, a dark place where your purpose has been led          
        
Heaven or Hell are found within the heart’s value, you decide your dedication          
A holy man standing in a pulpit preaching the way to salvation          
One hundred and forty-four souls’ entrance, the others reincarnated to an ungodly world of mind wandering, daily trepidation          
Your fate leaves the mind in waiting, destiny to the last breath      
Which no one knows when reprieve will be given its final rest