The Devouring

Drink the water, spill the wine. Your gilded reputation precedes you. And the mask you don as you sit at ease. Wins you no audience with us. Yes, we of the twilight. From a different haze. Detect the glimmer of a halo. In spite of your displays. And yes, cacophonous angel. You speak in demonic tongues. But who do you pray to when you're clasping your hands? Swoon and leer as the fog rolls in. And apt shroud for ravenous minions. (you) Battle fits of confusion. As we descend upon you. A raging hailstorm of incisors. A malevolent maelstrom of mandibles. A faux rosary made from the endtrails. Who do you pray to? Oh golden glorious bugle of Gabriel. Why don't you sound your call. We've now devoured your emissary. In the midst of his counterfeit fall.