↓ 34

There's a spider in the well that can't be seen. A silence in the skulls that can't be touched. A city trapped that can't be freed. A soul caught inside a bag without seams.

Up steps the kitten in his righteous rage, all heat and cold cold flames. Lost once a sister's fallen pride, lost twice a cross of white, and here you stand still heavy wuith sin, little Abyssinian. Shall you quit? Shall you come for us all gleaming with that cold anger of sin?

Do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it DO IT.