Earth's hell was a pit of fuming furnaces
Firing cauldrons of blood
Moving monstrous wheels
Where the air was stale from foul belief
In a shadow, so faint, yet salaciously desired
To be that of god, to reach into these naked depths
And shaped in soot, a silhouette
Of oustretched arms and torso
At a giant cross
A desperate view onto the restless mills
That grind, grind, grind
Jahwe, you were the breeder of a pest cocoon
And whatever your gift was
Dreadful were the mills that crushed it