God is a whore, the sun and the moon, looking back it was almost as if everything was a test, and there was a just reward, some sort of rest, but the heavens don’t care, they simply feed on what can be, the realm of possibility, your daughter’s smelly panties, if it generated a feeling, it’s been done, whether you’re poor or rich, fat or starving on the streets, if it produced an idea, the hint of value, and you can bet, the devil and five panthers were there to ravage each helpless fairy, but the moon, that lovely fat lady, really is a hungry bitch, under the moonlight, deluded by love and life, you would almost think she was good, or magick was in the air, and it may linger in the world, and who knows, she may love you, the Sharingan, the eye of Sauron, a waiting soul trap, an army of corpses, do you want to go to heaven, those lovely pearly gates, then dig, dig, she waits there, a lily in a valley, copied and pasted, what do you mean, of course she’s special, worth your soul, and all you could ever be, under heaven, the moon shines and the wolves howl, how could any man say no…

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