::: Cinnamon :::

My God, My God,
I cannot see,
Why hast thou thus blinded me?
Dark eyes behind the cowl,
I would see right through you owl,
But I'm on my knees to pray,
for Deliverance, from this,
Cinnamon.
Boisterous buxom bodies,
Spread seed from field to field.
And all of us, outright,
Will stay up, for all night,
Dancing on the graves and graves,
Of the never-ending worm.

Written by: ~ Archibald Swanks

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