A subjuggalators Gospil

by Clockworksknight

A rather obscure cult prayer which foretells of a band of rowdy and capricious minstrels which will rise one day on a mythical paradise planet that does not exist yet.

Have you heard the whispers from the one who does not speak, his smile in the silence preaching of war and sweets?
In darkness teachers speak of colors so bright they stain the earth, and of laughter so true it brings with it savage mirth.

Have you seen the carnival, that marches through the square? The clowns and acrobats, singing gospel to the air.
Have you heard the whispers of the day that shall come to pass, when darkness will come for them and the mother has seen her last?

All believers smite the holy for the wicked are their gods,
and the crowds of empty souls turn to brightly colored mobs.

Have you heard his whispers underneath his screams? We have and we know the time has come it seems,
that we are the gods now as the messiahs have no voice, today we paint the mural of a future bathed in noise.

Do you here our whispers now, because they're screaming in our heads. All though it doesn't matter for your veins still run with red.