Various Degrees of Insanity

Hush now, hush now, for The World's still spinning

But our end is nigh, without hope of a new beginning

For we are the sheep; we are to be the slaughtered lambs

Our demise prescribed in barbaric ethnic cleansing plans

Terra firma's to sea, but heaven is purely vapour and gas

As ghost memories and fables (fallacious) all gather en masse

We're deluded, we're mad, we've been covering the facts of our inanity

And now it's the deranged leading the blind in various degrees of insanity

So I spoke to God and read the words ascribed to Jesus... and as one they told me...

"You don't believe us"

"'You don't believe us', are my thoughts recited," I said. "As is the Creator never was and no son of a god has ever bled."

So I spoke to Satan and found comfort in analgesia. Then I ascribed his death hallowed words on my board of Ouija.

>They're gonna fucking kill you all if you don't at least inverse the cross<

With this sentence formed I was at a loss...

When I say 'I', I mean them and me and including you; Him & Her and all our demons too.

So we called to both God & Satan and wept like Jesus; but there was no one out there to hinder or help, scourge or please us.

And now, alas, with Heaven & Hell we can disconfirm it, knowing that our barbaric tongues is the kindred language of The Hermit.

For there're those amongst us who have roamed from a different region. They have slipped into our dimension through the open portal of an internal lesion.

And in the final hours before an interminable darkness, in a post-apocalyptic meltdown. Mayhap The Hierophant will fill the yawning gap and claim what is vacant to be his crown. And then will there be a collective moment, a gathering of rational conscience, and a moment of clarity? And a 'what the fuck have we done?' After all, it has always been about, various degrees of insanity.

For there is no Magician and we've been dealt The Fool, as we conspire with Death.

And with every card that's turned The World will shrink and decrease in breadth.

We're all fucking mad, we know between nothing and not a lot. And those who think they've found an answer will eventually lose the plot.

The heavens are alive, but they're filled with dragons and harpies

As the wailing ghosts align themselves in sectarian armies

Of the crumbling holy houses, they're now renamed 'calamity'

For they spoke too long in tongues in their various degrees of insanity

Hush now, hush now, before The World stops turning

For our fat is dripping and our skins are burning

They killed us all when they reversed the inversed cross

For the crescent Moon was barren and now we're forever lost