Children limping, lonely suffering at night
His temples flesh faces are charred

A Mother's first born, deformed and still
All beneath his heaven
He sits in a wheelchair
Scorning whilst assisted by meek souls

Such scourge he remains
Scowling at those who
Dare not worship such a fool

A pathetic complex of weak will and faith
Father of malevolence, Son of lies
The spectre and the holy farse

Nails and thorns leave such dismal scars

They shall endure their hell
And cry for the forgiveness of Men
We are the Gods with more integral purposes

Nails and thorns leave such dismal scars

Men and Woman are the creators
Odin's folk are never betrayers