The Grim Reaper an infinite incubus,
Gifting mortality a dried carcass.
Bits and pieces of ashened bone,
turn to dust, destinations unknown.

Sustained upon pompous lord of the flies,
Tempest under the unholy overcast skies.
Seeking immortality with thought and deeds,
Within a disquieted heart an evil breeds.

Everyone desires ascension to a higher place,
To be the one who caresses God's face.
But he turns away from humanity's cold touches,
For we hold resentment in a heart's tight clutches.

Death holds no distinction toward humanity,
Obscurity behind masks of Christianity.
Always favoring the lesser of two sins,
A soul sold to Satan who unavoidably wins.