Sextons of the churchyard Have seen unblessed things; Ground no longer hallowed Has sprouted new graves
Descendants of clan That unsurped maternity hear whispers in their blood; This summons of the Fathers
Adherence to the principle Of man by woman born : Anachronistic ritual Soon to be obsolete
Forgive me Father For I know not what I do; My grave beckons As irresistable as drawing breath
Nature abhors a vacuum, The same is true to a tomb It cannot be empty A barren womb of plenty A vacant grave must be filled. For this the Fathers' will Material birth be abjure A mother's cunt is unpure
Sired in blasphemy In nocturnal obeisance to rotted hearts Filled with necrolatry Reverse the life cycle be reborn through Death.
Forgive me Father For I know not what I do; I leave a void to fill one Hear my prayers from far below
