Captured as a slave to the Moon from underneath the canapés, this nights pain has no ease while drums thump as fast as heart beats.

Dragged through massive gates and drudged through a city of mud, tearing apart from the inside without knowledge of which God we should hate for our blood.

Stripped and painted with dirt while we're led up the structure where we know we'll be hurt, kept in line as not to disturb the stream of blood from bodies which it spurts.

Bodies tumble down to the cadence of stomping crowds and fire flares to the sounds amping cheers.

Broken bodies are fed to the snearing hounds once darkness begins to blanket this city and its crown.

This place is their temple and these stairs lead to our sacrifice on top of an alter, a tragedy of buckling knees and malice in the form of a knife that will strike without falter.

Under this Blood Moon our lives are sealed while our people are killed, this night has no light for the weak or strong willed, the only solace is that they may yet drown in all the blood that has been spilled.