For my Cult, I choose popularly; didst not thee thus?
I’ve made the prophecy,
I’ve written the Grave,
Made a porophite and
Usurped an’ retrieved the undelivered Knave.
I e’er were in Jest,
Nary a foreclosure did I rip,
Not Ray of Flesh or Light,
I foresay’d the Foul, and it blood’ly did I dip.
Unbled Thine Trees, Savored wan Flesh-Belle
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