Spiritual

For some he wields a pitchfork made of flame 
Commanding swarms of locusts and of flies 
He travels wearing many masks and names 
The Morningstar, or Loki, Prince of Lies 
You swore for me inside that holy bath 
Though until now I swore he was unreal 
Renounce the devil's ways and wicked path 
To teach me right from wrong and not to steal 
You never taught me how he hides in love 
Transmutes our very virtues into vice 
I never heard him when he bid me shove 
Her heart into his meat grinding device 
God damn it tasted oh so nice and sweet 
The hateful power of his dark deceit.