Оригинален текст
Possibly, unexpected
Allowing a Scorpion that
Of what we still don't know
And let it fall in sculptured blood
By the Swing of his scrotum
The Putatives Grade your pre-judging swoon
Overflowing bashfully to the view of a Shaved God
in the brutal Darkness of an abandonded Horse eye
A second Scissor obtains admission
over fivefolds of sorrows
and it wasn't just the chaos
knitted like clothes
Then when a flaming creature did it
in the self-chosen dances of death
And the Darker ones lead
The Seraphs who hurriedly chase the sounds
To keep back the thoughts of bursting
A pissed Eel,
Whose effigy steps over the edge of the abyss
No Flames reach me
and no one is already there
Where my death Discords with
an Enslaved toy base
No Nail Shadows tears through the stillness
Of my submissive return home