The Morning Star once stood at the gate of Heaven.
Instead of 24/7, it was 7/11.
The star that writes and causes one shame.
After the fall from Orion, he was the only one to blame.
Align the one line, he tip toes a bunch.
His stomach is rumbling, he's finally ready for lunch.
The six pointed star, it started with kid.
It was short for Rothschild, do you finally dig?
It was as if everyone needed a cig.
Finally made it to the top, his eyes turned big.
Prick the thumb once, it was my sacrifice.
The one willing to sell his soul, it was for a hefty price.
Depleted, the material, he worships the mind.
Mind over matter, the feeling was sublime.
Love at first sight, the pain that hurts.
The Aryan bloodline, that one that murks.
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