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Chalk Face (Enochian Crescent)

A chalk face Of a dead son of god Reflects on a blank stare Of his dead servants Populating this deceived necropolis That still thinks it lives Let all sons Of our inhumane father Claim rights for a synthetic chalk face-on As ancestors Of the black art and worse Give-aways for a swine head No son of god has missed A chance for earthly love No son has ever missed a chance For love with daughters of Eve ...or those of the first wife of Adam A chalk face Of a dead son of god Blushed with pious for taste of blood And sweat And semen and passion Behind the kiss of the one he adorned If you'll be his servants Then let us celebrate The first and the only true Christian marriage Of a prohet and a prostitute No son of god has missed A chance for rebellion No son has even missed a chance For rising against his father ...and not refute the gospel of truth to hank As reminded of when we are drunk Of thick smell of love Panting passages of arcane hours In our high mass in the dark And a choir of latex-nuns Exalts to crescendo before Languid embrace of dawning revelations Three art race of QBL And of angels fallen And of witchery and sword And of Tartarean abodes Night, unknown, chaos