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Call upon the wrath of god on ye (Other) by Imago

Call upon the wrath of god on ye who see fit to tamper with such purity of that which once lost can not be found for such diseased ticks must be picked and squashed between ones fingers lest they spread their scurge upon that fertil ground for once the soil is soured within all fruit it bare the disease lingers no blooms we see from those deflowered call upon the wrath of god for the wrath of god is truth and it maybe the only cure call upon the wrath of god and the seed you sow may grow and bloom into something that is pure

-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. 31-Oct-04/2:09 AM
P.S. zodiac, I just noticed that you addressed this point in a post below. I would add that given that the first line (+ title) of this poeme are nonsense, and that there doesn't seem to be a particularly nice fix that would fit with the rest of the poeme, the best solution is to scrap the whole thing. It's garbled Beyond Thunderdome anyway :(




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