White House of Hell
Rusty prophets swept in last month
Foaming spittle, anticipation of the hunt
Morning rose tender with promise
And fate blew its seductive kiss
Soon the walk of talk stumbled and fell
Sun set on the white house of hell
Cement buckled and the veil shred
Torments of greed’s lusty bed
Take notes clearly dear people
Of the crawling scars in yonder steeple
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