Don’t tell me you don’t worship the devil;
Evil doesn’t hide well behind one’s lies.
Metal is the language of the prophets;
Only the guilty have something to hide.
Never bow. Draw the line. Storm hell’s gates.
Holiness is more than false morality,
Unilaterally hijacked by God’s golems.
No one can sell God their self-righteousness.
Take your pretentious piety—your haughtiness—
Even your praise—and sell it to Satan.
Real repentance is the only true way out.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, October 18, 2026.
Tittu
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Coming tomorrow, Macabre Monday:
DEVILISHLY DREADFUL
The Wild Kids of America; or,
The Children of Fright
on October 19, 2026
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Online) - Published: October 18th, 2026 04:58
- Comment from author about the poem: An acrostic Scorched Sunday poem. Part of my Scorched Strays collection. Inspired by the religious gatekeeping faced by Christian metal artists. This poem turns accusations of devil worship back upon those whose lies, arrogance, and self-righteousness betray the faith they claim to defend. It challenges the confusion of holiness with false morality and insists that praise is no substitute for repentance.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
- In collections: Scorched Strays.
Online)
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