in the midnight hour
stalking around the convent
in the dead of the night
waiting for the perfect moment
I feel a brittle breeze
from an unclosed window's pane
a shining, dusted casement
and its softly creaking frame
a moment before mayhem
a calm before the storm
final unheard prayers
from the shadows rises a golden horn
she is no more chaste
that little c**t of light
her honour gone to waste
in the darkness of this night
she is no more pure
that little whore of christ
sin's penetrative cure
buried her alive
next to a nun, a second to fun
teaching the pleasures of the sinful flesh
holy whore forced under my gun
I'm choking her with my dirty, horny f*****g breath
chastity forgotten
as she percolates
her never-opened flower
soaks, ejaculates
