By The Tip Of The Sword (COTS)

Oh, thy wicked headless demoness slithers in the winter of discontent        
No boiling caldron in the wickedness of its relent        
You come into this realm birthed from the loins of a generation demonic curse        
The history of your markings riddling your body of its youthful denied worth        
We are the Children of the Sun and our offerings come from the fertile soil of Mother Earth        
Echoing nonsense out the side of its mouth        
The card of life I hold in my hand is the life you will never earn, no entitlement to give, in a mindset with no spiritual or earthly clout        
As the elders above, we have heard your animalistic growl        
A two-legged beast, the dragon casted out, moons ago, weak and still foaming childish spewed vile        
       
The fire within the opened thighs        
Temptation in the infected filled ride        
Of child and by a haggard woman's hidden horns        
We rebuke all Fallen Nephelium’s and Reptilian entities who follows the descendants of the Children Of The Corn        
Plague filled sirens invitations to join in the abyss of such a nasty scorn        
Of Heaven, no soul of it shall be ever reborn        
And Hell        
Rebuked whatever you call the dwell of seven severed demonic tails        
       
Tsk.. tsk.. look in thy reflection of thy mirror, as a Hight Priestess, we will always anticipate        
You have taken the apple to your eyes as the alluring bait        
Not bitten, you have sunk your teeth into        
It separates the Jackal from the headless demoness as the fool        
On the hunt, to try to devour all Allah’s spiritual food        
It will be bitter to thy stomach, seasonal and for all moods        
In the heat of this Winter Solstice your JuJu fate trying to gather as many hearts as possible for you to steal their soul There is power in the mind, the heart, and in the body, in the name of venom, smite tongue when on patrol       
Too many voices in thy cognitive awareness, only the dark gallows below for you to console        
       
Claws dangling with residue of lost spirits, coated of their ancient bloody rust        
The stench of universal trash, the smell betwixt thy lustful thighs, demonic folklore pus        
Unto the Heavens by the sword condemns in the pursuit        
Cursed Jinns offering that Hellish buy one, get one free smoked flavored juice        
Sealed in a Garlic Urn        
Festering unto the soul, once chopped, quartered, and burned        
By the sword invested in me, mental proclaimed witches        
The tip of thy blade will commence deeper, withdrew, winces and twitches        
Faithless and non-believing hacking, no misses        
       
You have no power here in this realm        
Only fake words in your head that bleeds the color of red, as an earthly dead ridden Jinn        
No childish mantras formed against the Children Of The Sun shall proper and that divine oath from the Creator to any Hebrew King or the Queen        
It is the vow of our Ankh shadowed in our lineage Hymns        
Ask your mother about her pact, her destiny foretold, for her sins was invested upon her generation's head  
Before the darkness she sought drew her in, her madness hoping for repentance, she was ultimately by the horns led  By the reminisce of her and you, you are still only worth a lacking fuck in Lucifer’s bed        
       
Now go slither somewhere else before a house falls down on you        
       
       
#ChildrenOfTheSunSeries        
   
   
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