could be termed gothic, is not but a stream of thoughts unspoiled |
The bias that beholds thy Christ Obligation recitation shall be just Reeling rites blooming torments Finest relic, booty and hunger Guided hallow wizardry Let us greet The Vermin Rile shall his adversaries Plunder he shall spare To his jolly grace A bride to sorcery The lusty witches Shiny dark latex Magical pews Fellowship fading with its mystical crying Lord shall detail the guising heads Tears shall hush thy disciples Leave now upon mocking divide Ravine waters shall gulp encrypted recitals Plaster his smoke dome Pluck his knuckles Impale the bitch where eager slave Perpetuate dreams Deliver rabid serene Bury all with bones but his cage To the light I must rave In its bright Wakening to wider grasp Tightening too much for my carpel to meet The voice and blain Smiting all that’s earful Fonder just in blasphemy Equipped for the rain Walks that drained On a punctual road He lites up what’s left of caves Drags onto zestfully amazed Laughing aloud in frantic molds Leading the craze Yearning to blaze The lights and their aura Keeping his dirt inverted Heaping like a dandy gag Gushing lightly through his past Failing to breathe in sizable blasts Dropping onto softer hands of draped. |