Now as I’m lying here on this sacrificial altar
Preparing for this occult, sacrilegious, witch doctor
To dissect me and observe the Almighty’s creation
My life flashes before my eyes, repeating like an incantation
Before the present moment I hadn’t noticed, I hadn’t been focused
On my life’s precocious, stoic solstice before this
I never supposed that I was fated to be there
My destiny made way and its influence is unequivocally clear
Every occurrence, event, and moment flowed like saliva
Putting me into this circumstance as immovable as a mired quagmire
The desire of the Lord, like pathways to the future
Is to have His unusual will stitched in time with a suture
Yet, His is set like the sun at dusk--
The blasphemous autopsy is over, another one bites the dust