LYRIC

I gently whiztle the receip of blood no-one knows
I reap a fiction of memories leaving cold brainmass
I chant a more direct transition of souls rather than one every second
I conclude my corners of eternal time now and then
I lean towards the smell of rotten testicles whilst balancing some 9 planets
I concrete a leather if I scythe any Gold here – beyond
I dish an ocean of blood beside the sun cooking it's god's favorite pancake
I warn you about life and come back later
I behold to open (the most perfect result of your life's ritual)

I / am / the / only / one / who / knows / the / truth

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