make this easy for me, as i lay my bones in the soil beneath my feet. already they hunger, they thirst and prey upon my decaying remnants of deep and precious sin. don't you hear me howling? calling upon any listening god, who feared not, rejected not, the unknown, who felt the curiosity of mortal man upon their lips. oh, i yearn for heaven's delicate touch of divine punishment. and as i lay down the last of my sins, she'll come, clothed in treachery.