black ink from my veins
carving his name in flesh
a contract for the soul
a devilish possessive lense
riddles - riddles - riddles
destined for the few
curses damnations blasphemies
destined for the masses
under his horns
the dark that breathes pulsating
electrically fearinducing
inquisition - running rabid
in league with the cavalcade
lurking, stalking and preying
dying in my hands
knives, blades and razors
walls made of flesh
under his horns
where is the light
trapped inside the dirt
crawling
crawling like lice
maggots
maggots under his foot
slaves
slaves of the horned one
