Lucifer, the Broken Mould

Alone He stands, forsaken, on the edge of desperation Apocalyptic tales of hate filled desecration The unholy one devoid of any love nor hellish glory Lies revealed within the telling of his story Cast from Heavens favour, fractured from the light Home at last to labour, in the vacancy of night No choice but to be Bad for Good no chance of Gods Redemption Racked by indignation at His screaming souls exemption Mans destiny lies written in a wake of tortured souls Ancient gnarled fingers hold His bloodstained begging bowl Bathed in hellish beauty of a future yet unborn Hell hath no more fury than a fallen angels scorn His horsemen blaze a fiery trail across the barren sky From Hades gates they ride not caring who or even why Brands of fire, hooves of Steel, their blood it drips as sweat The only quest before them, to cash in the Devils debt The ace of spades is drawn from the Devils book of prayer The gambler knows his race is run and death is drawing near No silver in his pockets for the boatmans sordid toll The last debt yet to pay..... his very soul A necessary evil for a Devil to be shod For without the fires of Hell, how can mankind know of God As Judas in Gethsemane condemned to take the fall Was Lucifers faith written out in blood upon the wall