| No further offerings of our own flesh and bone, the stranger found in pieces on
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| shore, has limbs to spare, and can grow more
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| A sign, an omen, a living totem, a walking fountain of meat
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| Asteroidian limbs grow again and again, pleasing the pool of teeth
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| Sacrifice anew of fresh sinew, his scent sinking like teeth in soup
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| Sentries arise from the halocline
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| Water will flow from elder to embryo, the driest of days are days of old
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| Bring every bowl, fetch every pail, cup thy hands both dry and frail
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| We’ll all be drunk with water again
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| When we’ve regaled the demons enough, bring our gift back up
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| And feed him well with the oiliest slop
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| Yank the rope and hoist him high, he’ll regenerate overnight
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| When fins follow, let him drop |