As snow toploads a flower,
Lo, see my head gold banded like a bandit’s finger, in its finest hour,
Ignobly lowered closer the soup’s rim by dint of glinting crown.
Neuralchemy, summoning lost worlds, astral womb knowledge
As snow toploads a flower,
Lo, see my head gold banded like a bandit’s finger, in its finest hour,
Ignobly lowered closer the soup’s rim by dint of glinting crown.
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