Cassetta Azrael
Turn the spit.
Biting back as I incinerate.
A coward has no identity without an enemy.
How sick it is to tolerate the intolerant.
Under a cross and the banner of eternal heaven.
Just another good American.
I'd rather die in vain than sing the hymns of a hollow hearted generation.
Cast into the lake of fire.
The 4th angel poured blood on the sun
But never washed away the damage done.
Our stomachs are empty while their mouths are full.
I want more.
Sit them on a throne of gold to teach us songs of rhetoric.
Chain me to tradition.
Hand in hand with the heretic.
