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I spend my last day on earth enjoying the last bit of beauty it has to offer.
Sitting in the sunlight as the final nails are hammered into my coffin.
I accept my fate of damnation. I await it with anticipation. The crows perch on the trees above,
as if they could preconceive the spilling of my blood.
When I look into their faces. I see the empty spaces.
The crows tore out their eyes. Torn out before they could die. My father had prepared a place for me.
Nailed to the wood of a rotting tree.
My father had prepared a place for me.
My father had prepared a place for me.
Placed upon my head. A crown of thorns.
All hail the king of the dead.
The fury of god strikes down upon the earth.
Marking the beginning of the planet's rebirth.

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