They come around...

With fire 🔥 upon poles and staffs of wood
Making way for their own madness and darkness

Painted faces
Trying to assume no identity
But they knew their premeditation

Showing teeth 🦷

An evil grin and stare like demons which possess them

Feeling their way through the night with an evil chant.....

Looking for someone to blame!

Their bellies bellow out broken law

Not seeing
No, never seeing...

They are blind in more than one way.

For they are blind to their curse
And therefore their own destruction

God cries out !
But they turn from him in every phrase and warning

Accusing all that surrounds them

Becoming upside down in their 🩸 lust

They trample the heart inside their own souls and compel and approve the hunt

Producing thorns and thistles

They are dead men

And when they perish

They shall produce thorns and thistles