Sirkle of Onan - Hanging Garden

A congregation is gathered here

Attending with withered fingers

A mass of shallow prayers

Repulsive and worthless

Our laws just

Our course now lost

We stand as one

Reason undone

White tongues glisten and click

Lips dried with hatred they lick

And perceive with narrowed eyes

Their truth, which is theirs alone

Our laws just

Our course now lost

We stand as one

Reason undone

Idols worshiped

Small minds indoctrinated

Ideals brandished

False intentions

Seeping through pores

You’re small

Worm-like and petty creatures

Your time shall pass