Grudge noises from behind the bins down a dark alleyway
Rock won’t budge, didn’t want to see Christ anyway
On the third day he’s revived, all the birds at once die
Worst of my curse is behind me, words terse outflying
Fed up lying but lie if I’m dead up, arriving before rivals
Leaving people lining the sides my triumph
I am the man who hunted Gaul, brought about its fall
My bald head and name all future days shall know.
Alchemisland 
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