Did each cease to be an angel
The moment he or she rebelled?
What creatures where they when they fell,
Who spewed and farted, bled and yelled?
A kind of dead, not devils yet,
Before the rest of time in Hell,
They must endure a monster’s spell
In payment of their Master’s debt.
So men today learn to betray
Themselves and all they ever knew
As truth. They haven’t lost their way,
They’ll say. “We’re just making things new.”
The air is full of monsters’ lies
Falling like newly wingless flies.
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