unbearable pain has lift the veil from my eyes.
Oh, God of gods I see thee now.
You care not for worship nor tribute
nor songs of praise.
Yet, while the faithful in huddled rags lie,
Butchers rest well in slips of fine linen.
So let us know thee by thy one covenant kept;
"I am the lord thy God and thou shalt die".

For Death, not deliverance is the truth of your grace
and not man's adoration, but his rotting flesh
that satiates you.
Omnipotent, celestial devourer
unbearable pain has lift the veil from my eyes.
and I see your true form -

God thou art a maggot.