Blonde prince of all Evil,
In the garb of a Saint:
A weaving, a weaving:
They magical Feint.

How wily thy web is
Of meshes for flies?
-Woof of false morals,
Web of dream-lies.

You tell us 'the humble'
Are angels of light;
Inferring the valiant
Are demons of night,

You curse all that's noble,
You praise all that's vile.
Invert all that's righteous;
With satanic guile.

Round millions you've wove,
A hypnotic spell:
Christ! thou art Mephisto,
The mocker of hell.

You urge us to bless them,
Who plunder and cheat us:
-To love and caress them,
Who hate and illtreat us.

There's not in thy Teachings
One Thought that is true;
-Thou are a false prophet:
Ohh, crucified Warrior of Soul.

By Cordy