I sit and wait for my dreaded trial,
They’ll convict me, I have no doubt.
Make the innocent flesh burn for their cause.

 

Hypocrites they are, not men and women of a godly race.

 

If the pearly gates open for them,
There is no justice, just praise for their sins.

 

Witch hunters indeed, they pressed me for hours,
For the confessions of my uncommitted sins.
They made me bleed, accused me of sorcery and heresy.

 

 

 

I denied the charges of crimes I did not commit.
They charred my flesh and marked me with a branding iron.

 

 

 

This would be no fair trial,
Like many more before me, and sadly many after.
They would burn me like an animal, tied to a stake,
While they watched in utter bliss.

 

 

 

I felt contempt for each scornful glare sent my way,
The lies they told as truth,
There was no doubt they wanted me dead.

 

 

 

So I sat, awaiting my fate.

 

Listening to the continuous accusations and lies,
There was no doubt in my mind that I would be doomed to die.

 

 

 

The jury it now fell too, to cast my fate.

 

About as open-minded as sewer rats,

 

They convicted me, believing it was gods will.

 

Fools leading innocence to death,

 

Like lambs to the slaughter.