I’ve told them all. Don’t build this chamber in which your voice dies away unheard. I’ve been there, when pure hatred resolves in a violent shadow play.
Just type the cryptic words in and feel the illuminating power of mysteries so unhoped-for swallow the code to solve the puzzle of wisdom.
I’ve heard them all. The hateful gibberish, the priggish talks at the regulars’ table. I’ve been there, when kings condemned gods for telling fables.
Conspiracy of the sheep.
The truth is a shortspoken harlot, who shares her bed with money and blood. She never smiles for her admirers, who’re perishing in piss and mud.
I’ve seen them all. The paranoid eyes, their dead easy questions. Battered children, crying asleep. I’ve been there, when harmless sheep slaughtered the cattle, when self-crowned prophets fell so deep.
Conspiracy of the sheep.
The truth is a shortspoken harlot, who shares her bed with money and blood. She never smiles for her admirers, who’re perishing in piss and mud.
I’ve had enough. My seat on this feast for crows stays empty. What about you? You’ll be there, gulping chunks of rotten lamb, pretending you never knew.
Just type the cryptic words in and feel the illuminating power of mysteries so unhoped-for swallow the code to solve the puzzle of wisdom.
