Swine Of The Cross

Man-made doom bled death from the sky
To all but a few, salvation was denied
Heavenly father, son and holy ghost
Save your servants (those of us who aren't toast)

The not-yet-dead discovered that to be
A nuclear family means a whole new thing
All-too-trusting shambling pseudomorphs
Put their trust in a man of the cloth.

Make them hate you, rotting cleric
Remember, you are pu of my loins, you are pus.

Give voice to your left side, let me in
I've sawn the seeds of your redemption
In subhumanicide, I am your guide
Seventy-seven times make them die.

The sun is shining on a brand new day
Blackened corpses smolder where they slain
Self-flagellation prompts him to confess
Bless me father, for I made this mess.

Immolation meant to purify sin wracked souls
Let diseased bodies die; survivors twice lost
Betrayed in fire, by the Swine of the Cross.