| Lying wet, the object I saw
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| In this red morning, on a bed made of stones
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| Legs in the air, like a nympho slut
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| Burning and sweating poisons…
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| Open, cynic and cut
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| Her womb full of exhalations
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| The morning sun reflect
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| On this putrid womb
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| As the skies looked down the carcass
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| The world gave back a strange choir:
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| Chanting Satanas:
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| Crawling… in pestilence obscene
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| The Burning Dawn rises in my eyes
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| Forms were erased and nothing but a dream
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| A slow outline to come on the forgotten womb
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| Only by a sight of memory survived
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| Yet similar to this refuse
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| Crawling… in a devotion obscene
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| The Burning Dawn rises in my eyes
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| Swallowed… in misery
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| Cursed eternally
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| O horrible infection, foul of my eyes
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| Vermin of nature, passion angels!
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| Such you will be, ô worms of life
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| After thy last sacraments, mildewing among the bones |