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Whorelike hound from hell incarnadine, Reeking sweatish ooze from cancered glands. Slithering slowly through the murky slime. Reaching up your broken twisted hands, Be warned, that I aware your sad birth, In ages past destroyed the peace of man, Now see at last your mortal birth in me, And know I have been servant to your plan. Dear God, bring Grace, light out this beast in me, This thing that snakes and crawls and sees no day. To death bring life, destroy the awful glee, Of pagan lusting brute with one bright ray, One small gleam of hope that somehow I May comprehend the message of the sky.
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