This POS was written on my returning drive from Canada. It's incomplete, but I don't see myself ever completing it, so here it is.

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In the depth of the night, what is voiceless begins to speak,
in its ancient forked tongue, its lies begin to seek,
planting themselves in the doubts of our spirit, tearing at our forgotten soul.
And what is done is the sacrifice of the clean, stepping to the altar, as an innocent foal.

Our unrelenting spirit of vengeance, screams for its own blood,
and begins to tear into itself, giving to the fallen world, a flood.

What is revealed to ourselves, is the depth of our desecration,
Causing an outcry of repentance, sweeping the destroyed nation.
But in our unbridled evil, it is shown, that our very creation,
has grown to an unforgivable abomination.