There's death in the pews today
As the preacher tells the message.
Resurrection Sunday in the House of the Lord
When the bodies will dance in the rows again
While the offering trays are passed back and forth.
The Eucharist sits untouched in the Father's hands.

We are too sullied to stand before the Lord of Lords.
Prostrate to the floor is not low enough to grovel.

Far too dirty to disgrace these sacred fields,
Elysia is destroyed in flood and fire
Before our sinfilled eyes.

As we merge into Perdition,
I can not imagine why this came to pass.


There are corpses in the church today,
As the preacher rots at the altar.
The Holy Blood spilled across the carpet
And crumbs of a Body once Sacred
Only feed the roaches from the walls now.

We are too fetid to exist in the presence of the Divine.
Putrid flesh in the ground is much too merciful.

This bitter end is not what I pictured.
The organ screams to life...
But there is no Second Coming this time.

Was this life a dress rehearsal for eternity
Or the last performance of our last act?