Sweet Killing Mirth

Baked horizon,

And callous pain,

Wept for the Moors

When the lightning came,

No remorse

From the whore’s Deville,

Rode to the West

With the Queen so still,

Climbed for days

On a sudden sigh,

Standard on the clouds,

Can’t find your eyes,

Blessed Mother Earth,

Chocked by the laughter,

Sweet Killing Mirth.