Deep in the trenches the nocturnals scurry
A night like this brings no gifts for the living
On the hunt their gnashing brings bitterness to the taste
So in disgust they must toss their corpse to the waste
I bring the sorry life out of its misery
For that is the purpose my father gives to me
These creatures run aimlessly with no life to feed their hunger
I look to my brothers and see them rest in their slumber
The warnings of a sour cup is to be filled
Yet has been lost in translation as blood drips by His will.
I beg for it to be taken away
but never will I allow selfishness to be led in this fray
Just then the representative appears with coins and a kiss
The march of madness was enough to wake a sword from abyss
Yet foolish as we are we live and die by what’s drawn
So I rebuke the blade and line up killing starts after dawn
The nighthawks fail to sink a claw through the surface of flesh
But the ravens await to serve the feasts above in their nests
-Luke 22:47-53 – 1 Kings 17-
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