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The Monster

The Monster
 
If to the grave I see I must go
I’ll take you with me down there below
I saw you praying to your Holy God
Your faith too sweet, your life to rob
 
Paradise lies in my blazing volcanoes
A forsaken pit where nothing grows
Mother Nature is a foolish invention
A life to bear with no intention
 
To hell with all that’s sacred and dear
Worship is for those for God they fear
Life is my facilitating hunting ground
Where feeble souls and spirits abound
 
Show me your heads and I’ll take them off
Up to the guillotine and into the trough
A wild dance to the macabre is my fare
A bloody sword from my sheath I bare
 
Satan’s disciple I am, I do thee serve
Monsters’ paradise to the death I preserve
You are my life, my wine, my bread
Take me to your bosom and put me to bed

Otras obras de Robert L. Martin...



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