These poetic ailments - Of non descriptive nature
Debase the inspiration - Aesthetics suffer through negation
Words are but words - (Even) when lost in translation
I vy a why for their scriptures - Asinine burdens that cause frustration
Undeveloped still - Pose a corpse for their bloodletting
A choice of martyrs, if you will - Unquestionable; it's themselves they seem to kill
Now you're up for grabs - Unholy cults are cursing your ass
From the waist you are cut - A stream of blood satisfies the religious slut!

I am the nails through your flesh
I am the thorns of distress
I am the black blood that feeds the dogs
You're outwilled and outnumbered/I'm legion!
The scourge of your God

Un-poetic ailments - Of self destructive nature
Deface the inspiration - Aesthetics tainted through negation
Words are but words - Even unsought in translation
I demand a why for their scriptures - Asinine burdens, fake damnations
Under developed still - Pose a corpse for their blood shedding
A cast of martyrs if you will - Inconceivable is how these forces seem to kill
Now wrath is up for grabs - Unholy parishes are cursing your ass
From the waist you are gut - A spray of blood satisfies the religious nut!

Ch:

We are the nails through your flesh
We are the horns of eustress
We are the black blood that feeds the dogs
You're outwilled and outnumbered/We're legion!
The scourge of your God