Thirteen motions to the sound. This selected family gathers, begins to settle down. Divide equally this treasur we found. And toast this mystery we now feature. Down below, outside, creeps in reality. All of you now strip away your shame. Cloaked in fear. Draw our hoods around our ears. Raise our voices. Decide to accept all of the blame. This circle we form is holey. Yes quite sacred. This, a basis for a new religion. Already chapters forming inside prison. Preaching alternative babtisim. Comune on cenimeter squares. Snickering at us, reality hides in a corner with suspecting glares. A new cathedral we erect behind the blue movie house. Quietly our congregation is forming. Angel elect. Creating a ne dialect. Breaking collection plates. Pews burning in stews. "All for you." Incence burned emitting this scent, envoking the memory of seman. Deamons, giving up by mourning. This old war grows ever more boring.. While the second coming keeps imploring, "It's my time to shine.." But somebody dropped a dime, told us where the anti-christ hides. Both leaving it up to our councils to decide. And armagedon gets no press. Chrisianity fails our test. The vatican no longer able to manipulate, even now the pope deliberates, and its a sure bet he'll hesitate... you see.. we already influence 20-states. Built churchs with no sence of style. without taste. Hold mass with those with no class. Freely given forgiveness to those you deem worthless. Even got jesus to champion us. Turned his back on consevatives and raises a new grail to excess. But not all of you have access. http://www.poets2000.com/draven/
Reason for writing:
Taken from the Forgotten Theatre, by me, yet released.
Birth sign: Sagittarius
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