SHANE
Shane comes like the wind with the sickle
Thrashing the grain,
Bleeding the earth
Turing the harvest
Touch him not
Or suffer his wrath
Burning as fire
Moving the masses
See them dance
Blow and scurry
Tread the soul that ye once hath tilled
Panic and scream
Death awaits in his kiss
Do ye dare
Do ye desire
Touch his lips and taste his nectar
Sweet and pungent
Buring to the throat
Be his queen and hold him close
Sleep at his side and know his passion
Tender and merciful
Tender one, know you me?
Held me, you have.
Touched me, you have.
Taken me, you have.
What knowest thee of my love?
Rage
Anger
Fire
Come and stand at my side.
Take my hand.
Travel and traverse.
Return to the Sanctum
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