Apostate Sermon

Delere Opus dei My brethren I sing a song of joyful wrath A sermon of vitriol and gleeful rejection This is a ceremony of righteous cleansing Celebrate and eliminate Your weakness and regression Loosened from the thorny noose Fall free and feel the stinging winds Scour your newborn skin Salt upon sinew and bile upon sin When faced with an epoch of nothingness One loses themselves to despair All hope is abandoned In the presence of an empty infinity Open your eyes Know the lonely expanse of nothingness Embrace the bitterness of this existence My shell has been moulded By the calloused hands of fate No deity, no god Created me in his image Non est Opus dei Yearning for meaning in unequalled measure This ache sewn into the fabric of our desires The weight of choice, the mortal chains A existence defined through pain And all that will be contrived Is a product of a will to survive A sack of skin made for with no intrinsic purpose A writhing wretch flailing about beneath the empty sky Gnawed by thoughts of worthlessness and feelings of despair Shed your rotted chrysalis, emerge in a spiteful victory Shed your rotted chrysalis, emerge in a spiteful victory