By: Spencer DiSparti
What predestined hell is this?
Are we all born from the fruit of Eve,
Accursed children of original sin,
Bound to tread the same ill-favored path?
My liver bleeds like that of a Titan;
Torn from my flesh by vulturous hands,
Chained to the same desolate crag;
The iron digs into my bones
And I sing to the numbing pleasure of pain.
A moribund soul drifting
Down a shore of bloated corpses;
Shedding one infernal skin after another.
Hell is not knowing you are already there
Forever bound to the chains you cannot see.