Smoggh Sektants

Can you feel it at last?
The fume of death and suffocation
Creeping in like a shapeless burglar
Assassin without a body

It’s an angel with a sword
Thousand razor-sharp blades
Slicing the throat from the inside
Just to get out. Out! Out!

My vision succumbs in the fog
And drowns in the tears
Get rid of what’s needless!
Embrace your destiny

In the fog
In the tears
What’s needless!
Predetermined destiny

An angel with a gas chamber
Billion razor-sharp molecules
Enter the vital organs
And never go out. out.

It’s an angel with a sword
Thousand razor-sharp blades
Slicing the throat from the inside
Just to get out. Out! Out!

It’s an angel with a sword
Thousand razor-sharp blades
Slicing the throat from the inside
Just to get out. Out! Out!

***

Monastic truth-seekers
Followers of the one true light
Death worshippers
And the horned priests of the Old

Every other corner of this desolate’s
Inhabited by a fracture of the worship
Innumerable amount of the disciplines
Divided by the fourth-rate nuances

Each and every sektant
Living by their own rules
Each and every sektant
Following their own path

The wasteland’s as if shrunken
Despite ne’er being vaste
The dust’s grown weary
And awful

A sekt for every sektant
A discipline for every disciple
A teaching for every teacher
And for every region there’ll be a religion

To be fair I couldn’t
Hear their mission anymore
I hid myself away
under the rotten roots