Prophetical

God - you were a martyr not worth praying your grave won't be adorned with flowers but with infants blood Satan touched the dawn and devoted the sky to the powers the sky born in the blood but out wedlock God, I scoff at your words couse your graves been spat with fire you won't be eternity you won't be nothingness The Subject on their knees bitterly accept these moments the satan is being coronated Now now satan's coronation