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perfect black night

the coldest star in the sky

dress my skin in the blood of our brothers we delivered to the King

construct a ceremonial grave

lead the ritual for 40 days

wait for the hemlock to take root

conjure dead life

the Dark Garden lies

five miles south of the river with eyes

crucify our lamb our lord

inside the tomb of a dying god

catharsis of a generation

apathy for a miracle

turn my blood into wine