Drink from the poisoned chalice
One that is filled with malice
Prepared by the heathen gods
Manufactured to squew the odds

Mounted atop the blackened throne
Constructed from bleached white bone
Crowned upon the fields of doom
Beyond which lies the bloody moon

Sip at the sulphur streams
From which come innocent screams
Drowning in the filthy crud
No more cries of bonded by blood

Wrapped within the putrid rags
This is not a life of brag
Instead come chants of kill ’em all
Right before the axe does fall

Fashioned from a harrowed dream
The sort that’ll play on every screen
Built by the rotten hand
All of which did come from man

So mark my words and mark them well
This is the spell that will soon swell
Consuming all that dares to breathe
And will be rended bitterly

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