Clitherow

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The Puddin's

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Stones atop the door, for ye whom God regards in Sodom
Compelled and dying for, the defenders reform

God her only judge, that doesn't judge for much
Her faith drips from her cunt as her ribs crack and erupt
To stammer or falter at the altar, yield! or face now death
Enacted slow so thy will'st know of great pain before ye rest
The door above us all, is weighted in all seasons
Dogma of today, is oft tomorrow's deadly reason

Set a beacon for the heathen fleeing in the night
Belief as treason, lost malfeasance to behead the wife
Take her to the bridge of souls a martyr to become
Of God's indifferent King maleficent, Saint Pestiferous, Nocturnes Infernus serpent

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