In so I have told,
False blessings laid hand.
Demented grown old,
They not chosen land.
Blessed marks above high,
Shed not Angel tears.
Instead, demons thigh.
For who dares gloves God,
Death soon always nears.
Intimacy dead,
Collars peeling skin.
Nothing left all said,
Restored souls begin.
Rage roar their brains flames,
Torn demons their names.