Moloch's dawn

Deity of pyre and blame,

whose slaves pray to inflame,

god almighty without soul,

whose arms hold, the children's oath.


Patters and blathers to hide,

dreadful songs of baby's cries,

the realm of wrench and tears,

to consume mothers over years.


Cleansed the cadavers of despair,

whom died on sardonic smile,

a praise of Him does not come,

only genocide, in a fiend’s name.


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