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Leviathan
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What Fresh Hell
Take wings at midnight
Under glimpses of a uncertain moon
Her thoughts become scarcely human
They infest and cloud her mind
And she longs for this rotting ill
And the grim bolt of her king
She waits in bestial desire
To meet her mater's last words,
'Do you think I would except just any soul
willing to give itself to mine power...
...I torture and chastise you
to ripen you for mine embrace...
...Taking wings at midnight!'
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