It's sinful to verse my missus another ode when man waste
It's so unbearable to living in hell; life must be lifting me away
Away to the shrine that be drying to dire and to dust
Lone by lone to putting eye waters to tearing down and thrusting tumbling
Down till oceans of tear glands, salty and past the seas legacy's formed forming and in
That making shall I take the shots pouring acid to aide my opening cuts.
Yay, life's only brutish and enjoyment's cold and cursing!
For the duality of all that be be sickening and wearisome - by
The riches of the rich with their classy clothes opposing worthless pierced wrappers
Garments - gores in the stead going up glowing like a piece ascending and flying fine - a scarf
Combing the cumulus and others down with the whirr of the wind
The piercing of the thunder and the embrace of all that which be grotesque
With a very good gaunt past the clanking of the governors' golden cups of wine
Permitting pattering in the desert - dirt - dearth filling with horrid bones and fresh deads
Plus little and long longing lives soaked in the state of squalor selling nothing
Earning pain in returning for nothing is taken
Hope's taken so stomachs be keeping protruding
Chests keeping coming out comely with skins living bones with null choice
No lots of maggots for feeding
Beings' heads coming to becoming large and bony
Dimples be loosening and wicked walks of the arid winds only fluttering to false their mouth
Opening to seeming smirking which is crying within each pace through the whirl fogs within another who's feeling finally falling
And the sun rising coming comely the East is coming to be the lost thing
As death rate's rising resting, leaving awaiting another match capping.
