The Heathen Sacrifice

[feverstone]

I'm not really a poetic person. Mainly because whenever I try to write a poem, it sucks. I had a certain tune in my head when writing this poem, so I'm sure it sounds a lot better in my head than it will in yours.

The Heathen Sacrifice

The time has come for sacrifice
Weight of sin, crushing like a vice
Watch the terror betray his eyes
When he looks upon the rusty knife

The smoke is rising to the sky
Cleansing our souls of theft and lies
The carving blade makes creature cry
The dead and burning wood is piled high

(The boar squeals fill the air
Temporary forgiveness fills our beating hearts
Damned since the morn' he was ensnared
Temporary forgiveness fills our beating hearts
Fills our hearts)

The boiling skin attracts the flies
To the gods, we apologize
The scene of death good in their eyes
To the gods we owe this sacrifice

Knife in hand, priests take a slice
We cut some meat off of the thigh
The smell is good, the time is right
We dine on flesh within the firelight

(Temporary forgiveness fills our beating hearts)

Sol hides from the approaching night
And the winter wind's icy bite
And though the flames bring us delight
We burn ourselves to please the divine

(Fills our hearts)

The time has come for sacrifice
Weight of sin, crushing like a vice
Watch the terror betray his eyes
When he looks upon the rusty knife

We drink his blood to finalize
The job of gods materialized
The task is done, we live our lives
Practicing this deed until we die