I swarm deserted away
Like glass
Warm, and as fevers
I am as flame
I am death
For I, I weave our blasphemies
Like glass
Warm, and as fevers
I am as flame
I am death
For I, I weave our blasphemies
Witches painted me
Like the mysteries created me
Like where the poets breathe
I were woven into blasphemies
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