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Through the fields of stars and through the black forest,
And always West, trailing behind them a glowing disk,
With their frizzy coats and gnarling smiles; the heroes try to **** them with meteors.

Scattered shards of stone-fire bits, and the ashen paw prints evading it,

…and the horse shines upon Lykaon’s grave.

Howling are the wolves of Phanes, their number growling with the rains.
And matching windy howling screams, with hoots and hollers inbetween…
The great horns point at the wolven den, from which Fenrir’s gaze sees all man’s sin.

And the flames of Cerberus lick the hori-zon;

…as he descends into Hell’s cave,

And the Drakon hungry for lycanthropes, he hunts the plains of Hades;
But the cunning beasts avoid him while calling out to the moon, over their master’s grave.

Calling out over Lykaon’s grave,

Cyclopean-cotton collects, a smoking pillar covering guide. Obscuring the light and now they are vexed, as the Lykos struck down, they have died.

And their flesh is what the Drakon does crave, as they are devoured on the stones of Lykaon’s grave,

…at that place known as Lykaon’s grave,

Struck down with asters
and gobbled-up,
over Lykaon’s grave.
Wyrd-wolven stars at night

…over Lykaon’s grave,

A werewolf at,
The entrance,
To the cave,
And that King,

…who stands before Lykaon’s grave.
Mysterious Etrusca!
Strange Etrusca!

Ten lupine stars rush from behind,
Supine pellucid moon,

Prowling Etrusca!
Growling Etrusca!

Brauroi women, anguished screams,
Pinned by Tyrrenia’s swoon,

Cry out, Etrusca!
Die out Etrusca!

And ships set sail for journey’s end,
Tales of victory, they croon…

Oh my Etrusca!
Cruel sigh, Etrusca!
In the chaos of the city, City!
Where the wolven on the prowl,
Hot legs and looking pretty, leather skirt and upturned scowl,
You know it won’t discourage ditty, it only raises lustful howls,
In the chaos of the city, (pause)…a hunter’s stalking you now-ow-ow! (nowel)

In the chaos of the city, City!
Out at night you wanna dance, (day-ance)
To the animals you’re pretty, in those heels with that prance, (pray-ance)
In the chaos of the city, wolves are out to bed you down, (day-oun)
In the chaos of the city, tonight it’s *** out on the town, (tay-oun)

In the chaos of the city! City!
While trailing scent all a-round, (a-ray-ound)
Curvy-body, lookin’ at-cha (pause)… my teeth glistening, open mouth, (may-outh)
They’re not asking for much yeah, won’t be saying baby please,
Wolves you know they’re gonna hunt-cha, strutting past Ole’ factories,
Drivin’ n’ dancing yah, till you’re exhausted on your knees,

In the chaos of the city, City!
Out at night you wanna dance, (day-ance)

To the animals you’re pretty, Pretty!
In your heels they watch you prance, (pray-ance)

In the chaos of the city, City!
Wolves are out to bed you down, (day-oun)

In the chaos of the city, City!
Tonight it’s *** out in the town, (tay-oun)

In the chaos of the city, City!
In the chaos of the city,

In the chaos of the city, City!
Feel his claws up on you now…

Ooh-Ooh, …In the chaos of the city,
In the chaos of the city,
In the chaos of the city,
In the chaos of the city…
Lyrical poetry or song.
“I find life and time to be incompatible…
…the way the Sun sets in the ocean cannot be reconciled.”

“The fact that we only have ‘A’ time is equally as confusing as the purpose of life.”

“With so much to experience in this world why can’t we have some more time?”

“We seem to get more than enough of life, dealt, daily upon us…”

“So much of life seeing times we only wish to forget.”

“Many of the times we wish would never end…”

“Sometimes in life time is agonizing pain.”

“When over too quickly; -painful.”

“Too slowly; -painful.”

“Incompatible.”
Prose with downward progressive count by twos.
Olives, figs, dates and mastic, wyrd or oracles, fates and magic, wars and loves and all that’s tragic.


A Father’s lust, an Uncle’s hate, a puzzling labyrinth, through the gate,

A Cretan born, another covered, a starry symbol, placed in the cupboard,

Special place, where heroes meet him, mindless creature, murderous ******,

South in winter, man below with a bull above, placed in the heavens by two father's love,

A strangeness here, the seat of trade, in forbidden tryst, a beast was made,

Man of blood, tortured soul, stalks the maze, that stalks the pole,

"Stranger still, this wild pattern, revolving Seventh, Circle of Saturn?"

Unholy corridors made of granites, trace out the movements of the planets!

Life of horror, a soul of pain, terrorizing, with no refrain,

Smells their fear, scents of sin, raging actions, threshing men;

“They call me Moloch! They call me Baal! Tear your body, festoon my hall!”

In trepidation, to gatekeeper sent, a ****** start, for your punishment;

“I collect the hearts, I eat the eyes, I eat the liver, before he dies!”

Olives, figs, dates and mastic, wyrd or oracles, fates and magic, life and death and all that’s tragic.
The Minotaur is the constellations of Orion with the "bull's head," or "bull at/as his head," -Taurus inside the, "labyrinth," created by drawing the lines of the celestial motions, planets and stars, inside a circle or spherical graph. The Bull is the Apis Sun God of Egypt and the Man is the Orion-Aryan symbol of the harvest in Sumer-Persia therefore Minos was the ruler who combined the two kingdoms into one. Most likely the second to do so since Narmer/****** was his father.

In Greek myth each myth contains three celestial items found in the heavens and they are combined in story as, "Heteroclitic," according to Plato meaning assigned by the author as the author sees fit to tell it. In short, the myth is put together by the teller in any way in which the storyteller wishes to convey it.
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-Naaaaaaa…
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-Naaaaaaa…
­
Yeah!

Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-Naaaaaaa…
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-Na­-a-a- yeah,

Singin’ the light of *Agido!

See her likeness like the sun,
Can I praise? Can I blame her?
When winged-dreams come undone…

Singin’ the light of Agido!
Pierce Pleiades with the dawn,
And now I’m ploughing the Dog-star, -yeah!
Wooing my goddess with a song,

Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-Naaa- yeah!
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-Na-a-a-ahh…
Na-na-na-na-na-na-n­a-na-Naaaaaaa…
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-Naaaaaaa…

The owl on a rafter-er, the festival of days, -yeah!
Singin’ the light of Agido,
My Dawn Goddess passion’s haze,

Yeah!

Singin’ the light of Agido!
Ten-beauties-likeness like the sun,
Floating swans on streams of Xanthus,
Sweet-tasting honey’s oh so young!

Singin’ the light of Agido-oh!
Singin’ the light of Agido!

Yeah!

Singin’ the light of Agido-oh!
See her likeness like the sun,

Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-Naaaaaaa…
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-n­a-Naaaaaaa…

Yeah!

Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-Naaaaaaa…
Na-­Na-Na-Na-Na-Na-Na-A-A- yeah!

I saw the light of Agido,
A War of Love eclipsed the sun,
Who’s to blame? Where’s the praise now?
When winged-dreams come undone,

Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-Naaaaaaa…
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-N­aaaaaaa…

Yeah!

Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-Naaaaaaa…
Na-na-na-­na-na-na-Na-a-a- yeah,

Yeah…

Soft-spoken
*Standard tempo
The first opera was produced by a Spartan named Alcman. It contained the first chorus which was meant to be sung by the audience. Most of the play is missing so I reconstructed a modern form in song for it. It is on the Paris Papyrus. It was said to have been the most popular play in Greek history because of the singing nature and the audience participation.

Agido is the woman whom was so beautiful the angels of heaven turned against god and themselves fighting a war over her. In Sumerian her name implies, "Creation/created of the waters."

The phrase, "ten beauties likeness like the sun," comes directly from the original and is a clue that the Greeks had longitudinal navigation allowing them to sail across the oceans. There are ten major stars aligned on the ecliptic against which you must plot the moon's position nightly to chart longitude.
“You don’t take life seriously.”

“You take life …seriously?”

“You have a problem I see.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“I am beginning to get annoyed…”

“Tell me about it!”

“Is there something I am missing here?”

“I am not sure how to go about finding it then?”

“Stop! Just quit. You will not make me out to be a Logical Positivist.”

“What does that mean?”

“Clearly one of us needs to respond with a logical argument?”

“Thank You!”

“You’re turning things around again, try to act responsibly, be serious.”

“You mean logically?”

“No, I mean, yes, try to respond in a way that shows maturity.”

“You mean like age?”

“Yes.”

“Do you seriously take lives?”

“Arrgh!”

“I’m sorry; I thought time was a synonym for age?”

“This is getting old…”

“No doubt.”

“I’m done. If you can’t have a serious conversation I’m leaving!”

“Wait, I thought we were talking about life?”
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