Let us eat out your fucking Bible, let us widen it's legs, kneading it's thighs.
Your god will not save you. Forgetful sir. He is too busy fucking the ears of priests, their closed doors and open whores. Lubed hinges and hushed cries.
Quiet my child for its time for the feast, the Feast of Souls.
On this night, on our night.
Fecund, earthy smell of decay of rot of filth.
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