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On that totem the gospel came
Nineveh was the other name.
To bow faced down to exalt
The secret of the christian cult
Who are proud to defile in the absence of shame
One by one we’d have to answer
There’s a song wooing the dancer
Rain behind the misleading cloud
The echos of what whispers loud
And the odour of war when worn an enhancer.
I do not look up to the sky
Not for food, neither to ask why
I’ll be my own Godless specie;
A God, a monument of me
There’s really nothing up there, there’s nothing up high.
Leonell
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