Succumb

A casting shadow

Brined arches of Hell

The camp meat.

A seated Hades, afrose

A sprawling ribbed throne

Hairs of heat, flames of red

He says, succumb, succumb

Succumb.

 

A window exposed

Be rode, a path sticks

The camp meat.

The camp meat.

A small tender dish, rattle

A copper, a silver, no green

His henchman has no quiver

He knows succumb, succumb

Succumb.

The

Camp

Meat.

ronald-mcdonald-profilert

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