The needle in the eye of the hurricane
The poison in the font
The nail in the coffin of the profane
I am the lot

Maniacal the fire
That weaves inside my should
When dripping tongues of hate, envenomed, roll
Like carpet bombs in vast bazaars
My [bad word] with the beasts
Though no crescent, cross
Or wandering star
Shalt witness my defeat

Born of jackal in the Vatican
To a loathsome flock I have crept behind the drapes
And a wizard there is not
Just a white flag blackened by
Singing weapons that have led
faith that soon dominions over
Desert kingdoms of the dead

I smell the fleur du malcontent
The hellish stench
Of Judas in the dozens

Bouquets for greed and twisted law
Handmaidens of a holy war
Bring on a thousand roses more
I am the thorn
Tangled are the thickets
That spare the virgin heart
From the waking grasp of rapists in the dark

Mountaineers that strive so far
For a Heaven grown from reach
That love herself is fabled
To be missing from their peaks
Save in one sole tower
Where the presence of a rod
Stays the sleeping beauty
From the prying fingers of the mob

I smell the fleur du malcontent
The hellish stench
Of Judas in the dozens

Bouquets for greed and twisted law
Handmaidens of a holy war
Bring on a thousand roses more
I am the thorn

I am the thorn

I am the Spear of Longinus
The sword of Damocles
Kali up in arms, a bleeding sinus
The hammer of the gods in the prophet's teeth

Saint Disgustus, President Evil
Great white hopes of a shark-eyed people
Light of the world now flicker and die

Impaled in the race, in the paling face
Where forked tongues pricked the skies
Choking on these words as I slither to their ear
lightning strikes their blinded mains

I am not the hand of god'''
I am the thorn

Territorial thieves
Ever stealing thunder for religious causes
I will bring you all down to your knees

And [bad word] you over