deepundergroundpoetry.com

Hang Him High Pt. 2

Hung from the highest tree in the territory, the rope long since rotted
The ground reclaimed the corpse, his body was never plotted
Left hung until his body dropped and was absorb into the black ground
Nothing living would approach it, there was evil all around
 
So year by year he eroded and dissolved away
The people that hung him had long since past away
But there was stories still told, late by candle light
Of how he would return if conditions were right  
  
No ouija board or séance would be needed
A late night spark after dark, where he hung from bleeding
No one was out to see the lighting strike down that old tree
No one was around to see as the tree burned, the ground began to breathe
  
As the gates of hell opened up and he was upheaved
The hate that had multiplied, no one would believe
How he long to infect the human race with a flesh eating disease
Of how he hung all of that time thinking of grabbing a throat and just squeeze
  
Breathing in deeply he could smell the seed of a seed  
The "N" in their DNA, to him meant satiate your need
Hell left him with a hunger, he needed flesh simmered in blood
He needed a man's throat ripped, he needed a woman's pussy bleeding pus
  
He descended the hill, body reconstituted into the form before his hanging
No more cowboy's getting drunk, no more dance hall girls singing
Everything now modernize Hell constantly bringing him up to date
He thirst and his hungers for so much, he just can't wait
  
But this time it's Hell that is holding the reigns, as he chomps at the bit
There is so much yet to be learn before indulging this fit
He was made to stand on corner, begging for another hit
Sleep in alley ways behind dumpsters, walk the streets looking and smelling like shit
  
Hell said if you think that you were mad when you left, how do you feel now
They have pissed on your bloodline and gotten away somehow
He was a pure blood, and evil to the core  
Hell was nothing that he had never endured before
  
So he finally listened to Hell's whispers and Hell plotted the taking of all their lives
Why not this time kill them all instead of taking out four or five
Start from the bottom, and slowly but sure, I will rise your ass up
One day you will find yourself in possession of a set of button that will blow everything up
  
I will give you the sequence code, the possessor already belong to me
Most of them are the descendant of those that hung you from that tree
As those missiles explode the whole earth will resemble that town that you burnt down
This will tell all those that remain that Hell and you reign now    
  
    
Written by I_IS_ME
Published
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