Just as the soul is truly breath,
As to a carcass vultures fly,
The breath is gone, the dreams will die.
The vultures hop upon the earth,
Devouring what you are worth--
The worms that wriggle on their beaks
Will sound the soul's resounding shrieks.
Your carcass writhes--you're living yet--
Utopia is where you met
The onyx blade, hear beating still--
The vultures, maggots get their fill.
From chaos you can't order life--
From vulture bones you'll make the fife
That leads you children to despair--
Your beauty's one that is not fair.
Yes, you bring death, the vulture's meal--
The culture's ground beneath the wheel,
And you rise up--the Devil's son--
For death's conjoined to perfection.
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