In underground temples with iron windows,
from under the earth in darkened holes,
engines roll with unsainted hymns
and the world’s at risk as the devil grins,
pouring venom through untainted pipes,
all in the doings of the unholy rites.
The wind blows and the wicked scheme,
churning out oils and venom unseen.
couriers lined up to deliver the goods
dressed in capes with priestly hoods.
Priests dressed in robes in black and red silk,
drunk from the wine from the she devil’s milk,
plow into virgins like savages at the gate
from their wicked minds in a drunken state.
Wayward pistons crank on through the night
as the engines roar ‘til the dawning of the light.
As the venom leaks out into the pure air,
the sky turns red and the evil spirits glare.
It rides with the wind to faraway places
in the heat of the sun as the fire blazes.
Hell is unleashed as it sets down upon the land
and summons the Reaper to sit upon the sand,
to blow the devil’s dust onto everyone and all
and comply with the works of the devil’s law.