the velveteen and oaken soothed the lonely child the parents watched the
escort take him while they stood outside the priest was kind and gentle
as he positioned his head the pain was like brimstone, but the kid hardly
bled victory instinct over intellect victory it erupts from deep inside
history history is laughing at us plotting its discovery victory, victory
blame it on the victory among the parade crowd there stands a decorated
man remembering how he helped to save this sacred land his helpless
enemy was wounded, both hands raised with hope he killed him without
second thought, with brute force and a rope so many times, so many lives
test the other side waiting to see what the maker has in mind the
unsuspecting commoners hum diligent each day they wallow in their
father's sins, as time passes away the crimes are without motive but
they ignore all restraint the evil sits inside them torpid timing its
escape
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