Dug up in the backyard,

Wash it in the water,

Open with a pry bar,

No life no truth in matter.

Running down the dirt road,

Padlock on the chain link,

Tripping in the black woods,

Doesn’t (does it) matter what you think.

Crack an ostrich shell of powder.

Spit in dust to make the mother.

Knead it holy, just add water.

Glue the pieces back together.

Burn the hollow cast of mortals.

Break the body. Take angel cake.

Cut the crust off bite size morsels.

Eat, remember, and drive the stake.

Baptize the babe dripping Venus.

Crush the infant imperfect text.

Unbind the hair to dry the fetus.

Redeem the words the Book rejects.

Wrap the rocks in sackcloth,

Hammer nails the lid down,

Buried in a pine box,

What’s the matter underground?

Write Timothy’s three-faced letter.

Stuff the porky piggy Dutch boy.

Chubby stutter makes him madder.

Bust the bank for traitors’ money.

Smash the dead head crucial fiction.

Pound the spikes in, so where’s the sting.

Thirty talents wait inspection.

Scatter flowers before morning.

On a carapace the virgin shatters,

Bloody muddy consummation.

Miracles mend broke old bottles.

Save the wine for exhumation.

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