Beeldenstorm - Thirteen Bled Promises

Death.

Red taints the pavement.

Wreck.

Kill.

Decapitate.

I see an altar, broken into bits, defecated.

Libel temples, hold no truth.

No nails are left in their walls.

Plunder.

Take it further.

Raze and obliterate.

Uproot and eliminate.

Alliance.

The fear of defiance.

The father of liars.

Exemption, from benevolence.

The end of an era, now moulds into shape.

The cyclops.

His eye is blind but sees it all.

Ruination, utmost.

No absolution, brings immaculate humiliation.

Blasphemous dismemberment.

Eradication, abrupt, creates new nature.

Deadly.

Genocidal.

Killing their concepts is needed to start again.

Animus.

Ignominy.

Erasing their lives is required to start it all again.

Sacrifice them and throw them to the pyre, so the balance can stay unaffected.

The flare of the fire pierces the thick of their flesh.

They are climbing on each other, pathetically lost and displaced.

Blazing inglorious.

Purify.

Absolve.

The somber alignment is complete.

Calibration.

The planets float defunct.

Enslaved to the boundless magnet, the void.

Crush their skulls, their spirits come out.

Burned words on their skins, claim faith is gone.

Crack the marble limbs.

See darkness coming out.

Carved words in thy bronze, repeat the summoning verse.

Devastating the remains of idols.

A cold dust from slavery is left.

It dissipates, for gods are dead.