I crouch amid the filth and murk
To watch as Satan's servants work.
Wretched souls with blood red eyes
Feast greedily on mortal lies.
They gnaw with lust on human bones
Caress the breasts of stinking crones.
Mirthless grins on hate filled faces
Lead the way to lower places.
I crawl down in fervent quest
To seek the home of perfect rest.
Politicians plead their cause
Fresh from bedding rotting whores.
Icons grace the blood soaked walls
The scent of myrrh pervades the halls.
A Bishop garbed in cloth of red
Leers down upon a child in bed.
Now at the nadir I must rise
To find the peace of paradise.
Cast off my chains of mortal sin
And pray a new life to begin.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
