Post by Ape on Mar 12, 2008 14:00:03 GMT -5
A story skewed by ages
and prophets hazed in smoke
and incensed-maddened sages
whose hearts were lost to hope
Bastarded their son was not
for she a thieving whore was lost
a son she thought, but though distraught
a sterile father was the cost
So she conceived by other means
and fostered sanctual lies
and she to be some sort of queen
for the god that grew between her thighs
And fiendish he was born
beasted by his face
by the glaring of his blackened horn
the 'bastard child' grew in grace
His mother captivated
a heathen of her own
soon she would be aided
when stealing in their homes
But one day he decided
when he was very young
he was sick of being guided
so he cut out her tongue
Behind him trailed a legacy
though you now think he healed
in truth he murdered children
and their fathers in the fields
And he would walk the lands
murdering at will
the blood stained more than just his hands
the screams were loud and shrill
And so he turned the water
but it wasn't into wine
it was blood from all his slaughter
that glistened in the shine
Rumor past of monsters
roaming in the hills
and now the numbers countless
endless are his kills
And thus his sickness spread
and with it panicked fear
they say he sometimes ate the dead
and other things that are not clear
But soon unrest would fall
his lust unsatisfied
he dared to enter city walls
and this is where he died
Captured he became
and so his murders end
upon the burning stake he flamed
his stinking corpse did not offend
And thus rejoiced the innocent
for now they could relax
no monster mad and helling, bent
eating dead behind their backs
But as the story passed
the details were misplaced
all were changed about his past
his murders were erased
his cultists changed his story
and he became a fraud
they changed the gore to glory
and so became an angel-god
and still they worship him
and seek for his advice
if they knew what he had been
maybe they would now think twice
and prophets hazed in smoke
and incensed-maddened sages
whose hearts were lost to hope
Bastarded their son was not
for she a thieving whore was lost
a son she thought, but though distraught
a sterile father was the cost
So she conceived by other means
and fostered sanctual lies
and she to be some sort of queen
for the god that grew between her thighs
And fiendish he was born
beasted by his face
by the glaring of his blackened horn
the 'bastard child' grew in grace
His mother captivated
a heathen of her own
soon she would be aided
when stealing in their homes
But one day he decided
when he was very young
he was sick of being guided
so he cut out her tongue
Behind him trailed a legacy
though you now think he healed
in truth he murdered children
and their fathers in the fields
And he would walk the lands
murdering at will
the blood stained more than just his hands
the screams were loud and shrill
And so he turned the water
but it wasn't into wine
it was blood from all his slaughter
that glistened in the shine
Rumor past of monsters
roaming in the hills
and now the numbers countless
endless are his kills
And thus his sickness spread
and with it panicked fear
they say he sometimes ate the dead
and other things that are not clear
But soon unrest would fall
his lust unsatisfied
he dared to enter city walls
and this is where he died
Captured he became
and so his murders end
upon the burning stake he flamed
his stinking corpse did not offend
And thus rejoiced the innocent
for now they could relax
no monster mad and helling, bent
eating dead behind their backs
But as the story passed
the details were misplaced
all were changed about his past
his murders were erased
his cultists changed his story
and he became a fraud
they changed the gore to glory
and so became an angel-god
and still they worship him
and seek for his advice
if they knew what he had been
maybe they would now think twice
