Red is his favorites;
basking at every corner,
Showing him love and affection;
He wears and swims in it.
Liquefying his his throat like stream.
Flesh becomes the air he breathes,
His tinny body loves caressing comforts, made of golden skulls,
Shining and breaming happiness to eyes that love swimming in tears.
Only if you can kneel to feed him more;
He’d give life you won’t think of after here,
He’d light you up through his candle of vanity,
Where you’d eventually become his meal for supper.
Then your skull might be his next flagship,
To bring in more meal to his Lordship.
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