Sextons of the churchyard
Have seen unblessed things
Ground no longer hallowed
Has sprouted new graves
Descendants of clan
That unusurped 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 irresistible 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 abjured
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
