The Sin and The Lamb

Bound to the object of lunacy
My wrath is my lifblood,
An evercoursing river of atrocious fire,
Unjustly I was made,
Trodden into the earth,
My lineage is of royalty,
My servants, frenzied fanatics.

They worship my sovereignity,
They grovel at the very sight of me.
They fear me, and none dare to oppose me.

I am the great sin of Wrath,
For I was a king once,
I will be king no more.
Those who see me fear mortification,
For they know my anger,
I will bring forth the massacre of many,
With my hounds of the dark,
We will ride forth on chariots of flame,
There we will meet the mortals in conflict.

We will prey on their prejudice,
And from within, tear them down.
We will cast them out and oppress them greatly,
And with that, achieve our victory.
We will prey on their abhorrence,
Their inbred desire to destroy each other,
Alas, when all have died,
We will toy with the final man,
Taunt him, and make him feel the crushing weight of his guilt.
It will drive him surely, to a slow, sure ruination.

For as long as I stand however I know,
There will be battle.
The warriors of God wilt stand thereafter,
Strike our heads with blades of Truth.
They will drive us back with their shields of Life,
Our flaming arrows cannot end them.
Their capes are woven of the vitae of the Lord.

I see them wear armors so hallowed,
Their eyes spake of love for the righteous and hate for the vile.
They ride on horses of brilliance,
The horses ne'er pantm nor do they need any rest.

I forsee that we will utterly be broken,
Should these warriors band together.
Already I sense their presence here,
Closing in on my ranks.
Mighty is the Lord,
Whose glory stands tall.
Whose grace and beauty ever torments me.
Oh, how I hate his Majesty!
How I hate his servants of youth!
How I hate his children of Light!
The Kingdom of Heaven is near upon us!