It was a crescent moon,
Who enticed my starving eyes,
I picked the crippled chalice of doom
To collect Azraelโs enamoured sighs!
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There was a whisper in the air
The moon flaunted my blood stained hair,
Upon the nest where Azrael took rest,
Scourging the flesh of her dead breast.
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The moon shone in an obnoxious lustre,
Sipping my blood as I counted the hour,
I saw him snore in a vigorous roar,
A prey to live when all are dead,
A moon for an egg, a girl for a bread.
ย
My desires filled the streaks of the moon,
and Azrael took the solar storm,
devouring my eyes under Machu Pichuโs inspection,
the protagonists of my naval turned into a warm-hole!
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