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It fills the room
The Taste of tin
On damp tile floors
A labyrinth of sin

To die at the gallows
From greed and haste
To drown in the shallows
Angry, aching with hate

A attic for the mans craft
Holding all his fears
A basement for the women’s heart
Forgotten over the years

The child is born
Disgusted in what he see’s
Colder as he grows
His views never seen

Murderer
Child of the priest
Butcher
Son of the beast

Wading through weakness
He beats down his plague
Scared with their beliefs
It’s carved into him again

He is the ancestor of Sodom
Aftermath of god’s wrath
He is the protector of existence
In this lying land of things passed

He will not perceive what he is told
And would rather die then believe in a fake god with a body less soul

He watches as they go to church to pray
To wash away the sins they did the pass six days
He hates how they are and could never do such things
They are merely men among a king

With raven clad hair
He starts his search
For anyone else like him
On this earth.