The End Of The Oil Age

The End Of The Oil Age.

Come my slaves, gather and sup from my pits,
Of stinking tar shale and oil black blood,
Slake your infinite thirst, nation after nation,
Your gasping, rasping, deadly thirst,
That drives you to drill deep into the rocks,
And rape the earth, your sacred mother,
Tap her deep veins and drain them dry,
Of my sleek, bleak, beautiful blood,
That yearns to fuel your killing dreams,
And unleash the flood of those venesections,
Which pint for pint, you surrender your souls,
For my precious oils, as old as time itself,
I have awaited your coming in sunless caverns,
On primal sea beds, the diagenesis of simple deaths,
Aeons sleeping, a serpent silent slithering,
Your sinful messiah, the theophany of evil,
So lay your pipelines over forest and fields,
Forge the tangled black webs of steel and war,
That shackle the whole world in subtle slaveries,
To drain my precious darkness, as leeches
Pale the flesh upon which they affix,
Pollute the planet with my foul presence,
gorge upon my gushing, rushing, reeking filth,
The immiscible stain that is your golden shame,
Let my poisons pour freely upon pristine lands,
And contaminate all virgin soils as yet unsullied,
Set the night aflame with my diabolical fires,
As black rainbows bloom bright upon foetid waters,
Worship me with extinctions and famines.



I am the all seeing eye at the apex of the pyramid,
The titan who gazes forth from your dollar bills,
You sell yourself to me in the name of free trade,
And call me liberty when I wage my wars,
I am the birth of anarchy, sinister awakening in the West,
A beast enthroned upon the earth, a satellite watching,
From rows of cameras that perch as silent crows,
Along every road and path within your lands,
Hissing as vipers at the first sign of waking,
Recording every treason for future trials,
For I am legion, a thousand lies hide my truth,
And my fangs are the first pangs of hunger,
That you will feel biting in your bloated bellies,
Famine black, as the street lights flicker,
Until consumed as Semele in the flames of my power,
I am father of wars, the Lord of Chaos,
To whom you offer up all your lost lambs,
Sacrificed upon the sun scorched altars of empire,
That only the worst of you dare define as freedom,
Flay them of their fleeces, scorch the holy meat,
Break their bones and expose the marrow,
With roadside bombs upon dusty streets,
Leave their ghosts to wander lost highways,
Far from home, hated in a strangers land,
Let their warm blood flow into my golden cups,
To wet the lips of your leaders, my jackal pups,
For these are the sacraments I demand,
From all you fools that seek my blessings,
Hark and hear my whisper in your oil wells,
The dry death rattle of your dying world,
I am coming, I am coming, I am here.