A wretched city soaked in servile ash
Squatting over a feculent current
She perseveres under Florian’s lash
To endure their miserable pageant
And what angel are you to call us cruel?
Whither lies that shouldered plank you carried
Uphill there in that Golgothan riddle
Where the demons of your conscience rallied?
Beneath the lunule gaze, their hounds enjoined,
The sons of Adam huddle and give song
As we children of Endymion’s loins
Split black with vulpine howl and claim all wrong
And through those streets soiled deep in human sin
Sanctioned thus, does our bloodstained feast begin