Golden Eel

In the days of old
Of a time long past
Mudded glass
Waltzing serpents

In the midst of it all
Crawling mole, golden-yellow
Hunger, grow

In the old of days
Lays a gaze on the surface
Set ablaze

In a daze, in a dream
Pierced it through, ripped the seam
Past the chilling embrace

Through the plates, through the rift, shone a fist
Swift seize

If avarice is such offence
Call us ill
If prominence brings consciousness
We'll be still
If godlessness is rottenness
Take our will
If, god intends for this

(In the days of old
In a daze in a dream)



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