Idle chatter sounds much better to the absent mind
Govern me, k** thy master
You will not enslave me
The root is bitter but the fruit is sweet but not exempt from criticism
Small pox friendship, you die I take
You are the new slave
Don't call me God because I don't have a disease
What is cold to you is love to me
Savior seething rolling you in
Cherub in red said there's nothing to see here
Hallowed be who art in heaven
I refuse to call that f**er by name