Gifted with the tongue, the dog then barks.
Then Hell ignites, the engine that starts.
The scorching like spark, we must bring the heat.
Sirius B, inflamed, the fire at its' peak.
In which, we creep, we continue to be discrete.
12 wings in total, the two that cover our feet.
Poseidon like flow, the Devils on the rise.
The Queens that address the male, looking for a good guy.
Atlantean like woes, the elements control the grid.
Boys II Men, the men grow from kids.
We then smoke the cigs, the weed on deck.
All in on God, we continue to bet.
Upset, with Set, Osiris claims his throne.
Isis looking for his body parts, Egypt out of control.
On the low, we abide, the Werewolf blood subsides.
Bleeding for our Master Guide, she dogs, as a disguise.
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