There will be blood

Broken bones to swingin' pelves
Chants of cults display
Blown up and down towards the ashes
The winds weep with dismay
And cheered I have received
And cheered I wonder how
The eyes may mean not a deceived
Pray tell it to this doubtful brow

Oh sweet, fucking, glorious, immaculate, stupendous, godlike vindication
Adroitly, ask where forth art thou?

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