Manden Med Leen

A Hill To Die Upon

I have mixed the wines at shinar
I have planted the olives at athens
Fire I fed to the fallen fold
And gifts I gave of gain-less gold
At knossos I sanctified my horns
Wetted with virginity
Rightly I reveled 'mongst the rotted roots
And blood I begged of the boldest brutes

Albion gave me no saintless throne
My seed was wasted upon that isle
Creeds I craved of the carnal crowd
But prayers were proffered by the pierced and proud
The new world has been my greatest pride
Where longest has been my lordly stride
Death I dreamed for the drowning dregs
And love I lost between her lifeless legs

"Ye are of (your) father the devil
And the lusts of your father ye will do."
"From that time many of his disciples
Went back, and walked no more with him."
Let my scythe fall upon that field,
And reap what the sky would yield