| Below the lid of a vast rounded monument
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| Trickling of gristly vestiges and whacked hopes
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| Enhanced by the horrible excess of fetid exhalation
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| And uterine strangulation by the wreaths
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| Of the herds astray, arid in despair, blessed
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| With dilated flakes of fire, slowly wafting down…
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| Say, what does a maternal heart feel when merely
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| Vinegar stills your child’s thirst?
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| You’d implore to harbour his torment in your chest…
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| To make this burden yours, but… Sacrilege!
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| Who are you, harlot, to interfere with His emerald will
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| When even your glance should never leave the soil?
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| There resides the fusion, there is the nucleus
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| Angel prick and holy semen
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| And a woman genuflecting an aroused beast of burden alike
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| Seduced by the father and seducing the son
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| There resides the fusion, there is the nucleus
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| A phallic communion that sanctifies interior wastelands
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| He that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption
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| Carnal malefactor, rub your sterile wriggling womb
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| ѣ ѣ ѣ
|
| ѣ і
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| With a candle in reverential contemplation
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| And give voluptuous harbour to vile insects
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| He that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption
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| The scorpion shall open the book of Salomon for you to see
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| And the snake slither out of the lips that delivered once
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| The redeemer of man, born out of shameful maternity…
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| He that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption
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| The lactiferous beast subjugated reason to appetite
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| Praised be human nature, ciborium of shame and waste
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| For bathing in decline a redeemer moisty of semen so contemptible
|
| There resides the fusion, there is the nucleus
|
| Angel prick and holy semen
|
| And a woman genuflecting an aroused beast of burden alike
|
| Seduced by the father and seducing the son
|
| There resides the fusion, there is the nucleus
|
| A phallic communion that sanctifies interior wastelands
|
| When a woman is knead by the claws of fowls attracted
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| By seminal odours no longer hidden by dignity
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| And purified by their beaks rummaging her swollen vagina
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| When laments alter into praises despite holy duty and menacing perdition
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| Seers can say that his birth does death subdue no more
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| His birth does death subdue not, for my God proceeds of failed humanity…
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| O Master, the eastern pillar of your domination is the organic fallibility |