Blood Lust
outcasts. we’re out past any godly hour
cranked. the singing singeing of hot metal the call to power
brief immortality! the rising dusk of Valhalla is ours!
modern day Vikings, bikes ring through what the fog has devoured
the 8th straight hour of riding, 3am, a thunderous pride
with nothing but the road in front of me and brothers behind
chasing a lover divine, riding the scent of sulfur and mortar
blessed virgin - to penetration and the inkling we were headed towards her.
The gang met at her porch beneath a palpable silence
Angels of Hell. Lives enslaved to a cell that we salvaged with violence
To drink from the chalice of life! Rebirth in her primordial mud
Born a beast, I feast to become man...
Angel wings dipped in the sores of her blood
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