Before John could answer,
Two dead snakes rose back to feet unaware of death's jurisdiction,
By all that is reasonable, this can't be happening,
They are immune to injury, impervious to damage.
Confidence wavered, his voice quavered,
As blue garments threaded gold as well,
Delicately removed twigs and leaves, taking great care,
To not appear inconvenienced in the slightest.
Were it not for my gift of silence upon these six loyal servants,
Your songs would surely crush them no contest, however as they now are,
No words can stop them, no matter how sweet or intentioned.