Of the horns I AM
And of the horns I remain
Slouching across fields
Of **** and ruin
Crouched beneath
The reeling sunwheel
Upon a mephitic breeze
My prayers go out
Like a harvest of rats

Or the rusty rails I AM
And of the rails I remain
Hobo shaman
Black-clad vagabond king
Black marketeer
Of a paradise misbegotten

Of the bottomless pit I AM
And of the pit I remain
My lilting choirs of Armageddon
Sung on lyres strung with flesh and wire
Summoning my ******* children and brute creations
Shat from feculent wombs of excrement
I stand insolently against Gabriel's hollow trumpet
And mock Michael's jaded blade
Soon to be bound in perpetual night
For my assassins are on the wing

I inherit the earth
Upon the bruised backs of the meek

I AM Legion
For I AM many.