It's almost night
The clouds are streaked with violet
And the moon is bright
Banish your innocenceThere is no breeze
Disquiet lurks in silence
By this place of power
Your sins must escalateWhat has come before
And recurs perpetually
Is on it's way
Cherish each atrocityWoodland dark surroundings
Ill lit by twin beacons
A black car approaches
With two men inside itWith the right temptation
Murder needs to prompting
The man riding shotgun
Has just killed his own sonTo nurture the white wormsStill and isolated
The woodframe house stands vacant
Humans that once lived here
Can no longer be foundAnd yet all are present
Well fed and ghastly white
In the mound of moist earth
That sits just by the roadHis rigid features inexpressive
He flings his son's blonde head upon the heap
This last act earns him his metamorphosis
For he who built the house is at the wheelTo nurture the white wormsDarkling souls, though larval
With each sin can mutate
Into something dreadful
Before dawn, you'll pupate
And feed on innocents
Nourished by more like you
To someday haunt the aether
In obscene evolutionThe house is hell
With it's windows all agape
Through these come some worms
And they have sprouted wingsFear is forever, the objective
To goad the rest of humanity
Into acts of pervert nature
And bring out the worm in all of us
Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.