The wind blows my hair as my head slumps down,
a barbed wire crown on my bloody forehead.
"This is the place where we get you, real good."
That's the words that the soldiers said to me.
Blood pooled on the ground near the crucifix,
blood which I'd spent my life trying to keep.
The laughter, the mocking of the soldiers
Who knew what scripture had landed me here?
Who knew what words delivered me to them?
Who knew that God's will had ordained this death
Die on a cross or burn eternally?
Psychosis followed me throughout my life
reminding me of Election's nature
Christians die next to me on their crosses
A death of agony ordained for us
By a sadist God who kills his own Son
To avoid the fires prescribed for rebels,
I submit and worship the one True God.
It was a farce for the Antichrist's men"
Let in on the nature of Satan's joke.
They believed in metaphor and such things
that would allow them to avoid the cross
Avoid it as they hammer in the nails
On Christian after Christian, hands bloodied.
Voices lisping through marijuana smoke
laughing about the eroticism,
how they deep down wanted to nail us all
And that this was Satan's will, to kill us
To wipe the Nazarene from the planet
And live a life "for now" of drugs and sex,
sodomy done at the foot of the cross.
To never bat an eye towards heaven above
or fear the fires of Hell down below them,
that is what they chose to value today.
To live in what they called the "now" (today)
And not worry about the future fires
which would consume their flesh eternally.
These were the magicians of psychosis
witches who denied Fact's very being
Who converted lies into facile truths
To nail the Elect to their wood crosses.
It's hard to argue when you're being killed
by people who don't even accept Truth
Who view the scripture which brought you to here
as subjectively as an evil poem!