Those who should be dead

Blessed are those undead
Who walk the icy limbo
Above our supplicant mass.
We sacrifice,
Our young
Give up to hungry wraiths,
To those who should be dead.

Oh unholy,
Those who should be dead
But through our sacrifice
Live on.
They haunt the great mountains,
The looming, bleeding fires
The ghoulish chorus
Of their legions deafens

“Pay double, pay again
For the imperfections of your worship
For the excess of incense and censers
You have lavished
So that we may dance
The precipice
And not slip to timely death
So calamitous.

Pay double, pay again
Carve the haunches
Of your bellowing, sacred cattle
And offer up unto us.
Satisfy us with sacrifice
So that we might again suckle
On rich saturated life.”

Profligate in our offerings
They curse
Penance must be paid
For we have witnessed the sins
Of these ghosts,
We know sin,
And in our penitent worship must become
More as imitations of them
Grey, bonded and thin
And sacrifice our young
So these gods might live again.