An Antidote For God

Behold the fluid so sacred. enshrouded by time and those who forsaw
The end i am calamity and i am the plague, the
Third angel has blown his horn from the cold void comes
Vermouth the star to sour the soil of man.

Bed to rest mankind for sanctuaries are now abbatoires as
The temple of god shelters those soon to die.

From the distant horizon, beyond the scarlett nemesis, we
Hear the song of the end – vermouth, sour poison from the
Stars. dark sorcery, eden on its knees...a palace of poison where
Lustful the virgin mingles with hells infernal host...

Bitter wine, dark fluid of deception, drowses the mind of man...
"Tetragrammaton"

"And the third angel blew his horn, and a great star fell from heaven,
burning like a torch..." Revelations 8.10...renewal is at hand...