If my wrath broke up tombs

and swept away tresholds

pushing broken old values

into dark pits

if my hate would blow

rotten words to dust

like a cleansing wind

through moulding graves



Then I could rejoice

where gods lay entombed

covered with the sands of time

beside the keepers of a dying faith



Silent are the watchers



Even I would love the church

if the sun watchers down

through cracked domes

on the worms below



Silent are the watchers

gargoyles of a glorious past

perc hed upon their thrones

in cold shadow cast

across infinite reaches

unto new morals

away from this filthy domain