The nasty place I have found
                   Church pews wooden hues
                 Hideing secrects that no one knew
             Trembleing hands
                           Brushing digits...


                Who would ever think of the hidden agendas?
                        Of the corpses of strangers.
             Walking with dangerous motives
                                  Forgotten moments.
                                    Precious kept.

             From their sins they are cleaned...
                                       It's too obscured..
          Were there rings upon their fingers all the while?


           In sun-drenched shores
                             Of the mind they are whores...
                    Forgotten shellfish,
                                 mutation of former selves...

                     Liveing in the abyss of fakened dreams

 
                    Nevertheless they screamed, 
                        Whispers of hidden mantras,
                                       About jilted lovers,


                         That had askewed their worlds
                    And went on to the disqualification round


                     So children listen 
                       to men of might and woman so pure.


                     Know that all is a lie,
                                  Sans a singular truth.

                                    wicked is eternal.


                                        2004