Return of the Antichrist

It's the return of the Antichrist.

I burn incense and candles to entice.

Squirm when I channel replies.

Worm like terms scramble my insides.

Gamble my sperm to give a sermon to make the dead rise.

My burden is that I'm serving until my head flies.

Certain merging of friends in disguise, a serpent then will rise.

Men will worship the lies like a virgin's thighs.