Marching to the scaffold my whole life long
Sinner and a mocker I push my way
to the darkest pit of Hell: I press on
pushing against grace until judgment day.
Rape and murder are the least of my torts.
I've made children stumble and made them turn
I've made those at death's door doubt good reports
with misanthropic antisocial burn.
And you cannot stop me from my dark work
who are just a part and parcel of me
You who would help but can not but hurt
and who places chains on those you you free
Despair and weep oh you children of men
to darkness you fell and dark is your end.
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