Beneath the tower of deathA flock of vultures gatherFor the holy
feastThe last vision of my lifeA stormy cloud of feathersWhat
fire wouldn’t touchAre the remnants of my bodyTo vultures under
a steaming sunA funeral in perfect weatherA curried soul survive
the feastThe ox has been my teacherMoustachoid a sexual beastThe
heredict friedrich nietzscheMay God leave someone else to beThe
final zoroastrian
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