To conquer

Parallel twists
For your notes do I please
Then you twist and turn
As you run through
Scrawled alleys
After my devotees

They strangle and strain
As they twist through your veins
The blood that you spilt
And run yourself dry

For though you scramble to turn
The wrath of my chants
And bruise on my knees
Are not erased as you run
And so, cold fallen on forest floor
Still you they attempt to seize