Cold morning glare on a table stretched to crack Rye bread laid like gravestones, no turning back Pickled herring gleaming in mustard and dill Curry-coated fillets waiting for the kill Boiled eggs split open, yolks bleed into white Shrimp in thick mayonnaise, decay in plain sight Smoked salmon slices, silver, cold, and thin Liver pâté spreading like the rot within Stacked open sandwiches tower into the air Roast beef, fried fish, caviar everywhere Meatballs rolling loose, lamb carved to bone Every bite a warning—you are not alone Beer bottles open with a violent hiss Foam spills over like a venomous kiss Aquavit shots lined in a ritual row Clear-burning liquid ready to go First one hits hard like a hammer to the jaw Second strips the senses, third erases law Voices getting louder, laughter turning sharp Something ancient waking, something cold and dark Drink it down—let it burn inside No control, nowhere to hide Faith is gone, the table is a grave Eat the flesh, become the slave Drink it down—feel it take control Break the blood, consume the soul This is where the masks all fall Easter feast devours all Hands start drifting, eyes begin to slide Lines of blood and family start to divide Perfume mixed with sweat in a tightening room Desire starts to fester, thick as a tomb Doors close softly, laughter turns low Whispers in the dark where the secrets grow No names spoken, no faces stay Only instinct rising, burning its way Back at the table, the chaos ignites Plates start breaking, erupting in fights Mustard and grease smear into the floor Nothing resembles a meal anymore Cheese laid out like bodies gone stiff Cold cuts stacked like a burial cliff Salt and vinegar cutting the air Breathing it in like a poison prayer Aquavit keeps pouring, no end in sight Every new shot fuels the fight Beer floods veins, judgment erased Human restraint completely displaced Drink it down—let it burn inside No control, nowhere to hide Faith is gone, the table is a grave Eat the flesh, become the slave Drink it down—feel it take control Break the blood, consume the soul This is where the masks all fall Easter feast devours all Fists hit faces, bodies collide Someone is bleeding, no one decides Laughter and screaming merge into one Damage is done and still not done Gravy runs thick like a dark confession Every spilled drop a new transgression Bread soaks it in like it knows the truth This is the death of restrained youth Chairs overturned, glass in the skin Pain barely registers over the din Voices crack under pressure and strain No one here leaves clean or sane In hidden corners the hunger persists Locked in a grip no one resists Boundaries shattered without a sound Everything sacred dragged to the ground Air turns heavy, thick with regret Moments created none will forget But no one stops, no one withdraws Crushed by instinct without a cause Rye bread—blood fed Fish eyes—dead stares Shot glass—shattered No one cares Eggshells—fracture Voices—distort Family—collapse Ritual—war Sunlight creeps in, pale and thin Revealing the wreckage we’re lying in Empty bottles scatter like fallen bones Silence heavier than drunken groans Table destroyed, food turned to waste Every excess still leaves its taste Bodies are still but the damage remains Etched in memory, burned in veins Clothes disheveled, faces drained Nothing pure, everything stained A celebration twisted beyond repair No salvation waiting there Drink it down—let it burn inside No control, nowhere to hide Faith is gone, the table is a grave Eat the flesh, become the slave Drink it down—this is the end Break the blood that you defend No redemption, no release Only ruin in the feast Next year comes and we return again Dressed like saints, hiding the sin Same table set, same ritual lies Same hunger burning behind the eyes Rye bread waits and the bottles gleam Like nothing shattered, like nothing obscene But deep below, beneath belief— We are the hunger We are the feast
