go round once again after four times the seven, you're ready to learn how the floor under heaven's kept heated
at seven years prior to squaring the six you'll start hearing screaming and wails from our bricks' baking kiln
god spreads her paints while the devil holds his pen
is virtue still worth it where vice isn't known?
would there be saints if we'd never known of sin?
can there be death where life's never grown?
draw four circles more upon squaring the five, then taste how much sweeter is meat that's alive for roasting
upon ninety-one lunar orbits times four you'll finally see that their suffering's all been worth it
put on a bomb or skin the homeless, someone has to after all tho you'll find these ways are pointless self defeating dead ends-
circumlocute twice after cubing the three, the price they've all paid you so that you can be has paid off
divide fifty-nine down the middle by two, you'll now understand that it's them or else you, better them
will he lead them willy nilly
off the troughs and hills of being?
will he bollocks, don't be silly
all he'll do is raise on hills
above his newly dug out valleys
successors who'll stand overseeing
the history of primate folly
harvest your fruits in your thirtieth year when just and unmerciful saturn draws near. he casts a dim eye from the cold outer darkness, unforgiving overseer. see his great bald head there rising, at long last saturn reappears. watching from his far horizon he's got you in his line of sight-
if life is a labyrinth then man's a dead end that carries delusions of absolute power but ultimately can't contend when all is cut by the terrible mower
the ancient mower swept his blade and all the boats ran aground. the animals ran around unnatural sounds coming from them. he swept once again and all was levelled and lay still. the harvest then started to fall to decay. after the third cut nothing remained