Creatures of the depth of time shred my slumber with their claws
Spewing boiling tar as I lay stricken by grind of their fearsome jaws.
Crackling tongues spew their venom, oh the putrid smell!
Oh, the wicked things that curl like all the snakes of hell!
They sing of all the multitudes who felt my cruel bent,
Coming back to torment me with devils they have sent.
Sweat turning into boiling oil and trickles down my back
Flashing scenes that shame me by all the good I lacked.
Riders on their flaming steeds, with hoof of red hot steel
Oh yes, the very worst of me I know will never heal
Far too late to sooth the past, my wickedness abounds
Devoid of hope, the rudder lost, my ship has run aground.
