Lucifer’s impression of a battle-scarred
night
Is a mirror of both opposite “line of
sight”
Watched by a thousand wary eyes blinking
Underneath a multitude of stars winking
With our tears and blood, he drowns
the land
Increasing his animosity that forces
our hand
Reloading our ammo with fear and
insanity
Sharpening our bayonets with his profanity
He plucks our mind with delusions of
immortality
Stabbing the very heart of our own
morality
He releases the blind dogs of chaos
and rage
In a time of desperation and sheer
outrage
Where our eyes begin to deepen like
foxholes
A dark void from which we lose our
very souls
An eerie feeding ground for the lord
of the flies
A monumental piece for his composition
of lies
Etched in a canvas made of charred
human skin
An abomination which is the epitome of
our sin
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