The Cannibal’s dream and the inverse conclusion Twist of the seam, sunken scattered illusion
Shouts of the spy fastened tight to the pylon Sacrifice sweating; bygones can’t just be bygones Mustard gas moans, whip lashed in the fire Cunning glass masters burned alive at the pyre Miscarriage minister delivers the sponge-bath Alive at the eve of divination, the wrath Blasphemous cries vindicate putrid powder Sweet crystal cradling, swaddling sheets on the shrouder
Arcane sessions in the cavern deep Turbulently righteous ideas to reap Divine purification at an alchemy flame A zenith of nostrums, bad medicine, blame Strip off the layers and chant benediction A hand, from the mind, reaching out for conviction Sharp swords of lead, heavy, shifting to gold Sentient beings search for truth to behold
Excavate, deviate, a stranger to demonstrate Colloquial séance with panic to elevate Head leads body, a path of insurrection The soul and the mind at war for correction The crotches of branches, slits of the eyes A crevasse of lonesome; wedged in, we writhe Anticipating the sting that comes with the change Of transforming the cave into a mountain range