the acolytes are gathered at the Cult of Alison
  witching hour approaches and the rituals begin
  each man raises up his staff of sacred bone and skin
  while praying to the goddess for ecstatic communion

  high priest of Alison, I dwell within the pyramid
  having risin from the least among the ranks of praying mantid
  like Abraham I have delivered Isaac to her shrine
  among the lemming horde of pilgrims in their quest for the divine

  I walk across the blazing coals but should my courage falter
  I'll wind up in the pyre, burnt offering on the alter
  my unplucked eye to view the hungry vulture where she's perchin
  and contemplate the destiny of sacrificial virgins

  but should I meet her eye to eye as sorceress and shaman
  two ends of a tug of war with magick life in common
  we'll dance around a mystic thing until it pulls us in
  for sacraments and rapture at the Cult of Alison