Anathematize The Sanguinary Conventicle
Cold blooded fate blinds their faith. Sanguinary
Believers on the berth of anathema.
Sect of worship as dark as the night, anathematize
We pray thee, this conventicle.
All that dissipates the joy in the air are throes
Of wasted parturition.
Death condemns our parturition,
On our shoulders we bear the brunt of this sanguinary
Gathering of soldiers, garnering throes
Of anguish. Darkening skies herald this anathema.
Delirium deglamorizes this conventicle.
The sun darkens, the moon rescinds. We pray thee anathematize.
Beneath the bloody skies at dawn, ...