Holy Brew

The spirit sits on a throne of coals,
Mixing a thousand holy souls,
Brewing a stew with a dirty book.
A dash of inheritance, to sunder and sweeten the meal.
Tip the mount of Meiggido, to let the sauce trickle.
Flavour the meal with a dead man's love,
A live man's lies. Powder the cauldron with senseless wishes
And feast upon a delicate fit, for the rulers of retards.

by Bourne
posted on 09/29/2008