these angels of yours are hidden in spaces,
they’re lost without wings,
they have ugly faces,
they dig up your grave,
they bury you deep in it,
they spit on your god
and you know they mean it.
these demons of yours are roaming the heavens,
they’ve lost all their heat,
they have only sevens,
their aces are gone,
they left you alone,
without a crown and a throne.

these empties around you have summoned the furies,
this sentence is madness,
it’s killed all the juries,
all of the people that lived here are dead.
tell me, when are you going
to kill yourself instead?