I awake in pitch black, with ashes in my throat,
Eyes and lips sewn shut, my life’s song wrote.
Voodoo Houngan guiding my un-dead thought,
My body moves as my death curse has taught.
Existing only to desecrate, life eludes my grasp,
Waking wish only to hear my final coffin clasp.
Bokor’s enemies direct my fatal, nocturnal call,
Ripping away life, I rend within Mambo thrall.
Seeing sign marking innocents for unholy death,
I rip their bodies, until I hear their final breath.
Enslaved to hard labor for my lazy life’s waste,
Doomed to walk without sight, smell or taste.
Pray now to Ghede, Voodoo Lord of the Dead,
Restore tortured soul so no longer Mambo led.
Hope from un-dead misery with Loa Gods lie,
Escape victims’ screams before their final sigh.
Freed from this curse, much ground I will cover,
To make Mambo call for her death like a lover.
No penance can I make, for so many tragic ends,
I will skin Mambo’s body, and make my amends.
The Lord of the Dead will tear my soul asunder,
For slicing one of his Loa Priestesses of wonder.
To hear dread Mambo’s terrified, cackling pleas,
I would gladly brave the Ghede’s wrathful decrees.
Rest then would I, for eternity’s final blissful sleep,
Having sent that Mambo bitch to be buried deep.