The ghoul king mounts his throne of asps
And booms a curse to rend poor doves.
His troops pound steeds; their lava eyes flare
nine red manes haul wan hearts from bliss
iron binds gored bones to fangs and spikes.
As chains whip fire light weeps steel grey
a pious word soars; the wraith skulls jeer
their nails belch fumes; God's work is dross.
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