Plenty
Of your little eyeballs
Swirling
Over and around you're
Squirming
Underneath his sharpened blade
Each one
Stuffed into his velvet
Fleshy
Hoses of the helpless
Flooding
Up his little bag of red
Severed head
Rolling
Down the inclinations
Opening
Tunnels of creation
Fiery
Glowing of the mouth inside
Purified
What would we need with the skulls of the filthy
Making his altar with flesh from their empty souls
Turning your dreams into liquids of potions
Ashes they burn like the foggiest notions
Of your little eyeballs
Swirling
Over and around you're
Squirming
Underneath his sharpened blade
Each one
Stuffed into his velvet
Fleshy
Hoses of the helpless
Flooding
Up his little bag of red
Severed head
Rolling
Down the inclinations
Opening
Tunnels of creation
Fiery
Glowing of the mouth inside
Purified
What would we need with the skulls of the filthy
Making his altar with flesh from their empty souls
Turning your dreams into liquids of potions
Ashes they burn like the foggiest notions
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