Riga-mortis blue gun shot wounds
Surround my infinitely flawed heart of glass
I was Human for just a single blasphemous day
And spent the rest of eternity in hell as Penance
For holy absolution from this life of sin
All we have to do is pray to the one true God
I silently sit within this Sterile Social Incubator
Plastic clastaphoba cellularly fencing me in
As I nail my mortal resignation up to the
Blessed Cross shaped board of self mutilation, I was
Raised on the third day from my home-made Abortion Crib
I nail myself up to the Crooked Tree of exaction
To see who will lead Christ's Chosen Humanity
Into its final tortures self destructive revolution . . .
"God Is Dead"


Penned by my hand on the 17th of Valnuary, in the year 269 AF.