Prophesies tell of an arduous act necessary for holding onto innocence
And keeping all safe is foretold to use sacrifice to prosper
The Gods dislike limbs, for they are filthy by toil and sin
Remove them, let them become soil
The head must leave
It has seen too much hatred through unfortunate lens and has spoken too much foul while breathing in the vices of
Humanity
What remains is a square shape but still perverted
Remaining are tools for re-population but retarded into pleasure outlets; the most putrid manifestations
On the body. Once they cease, we may exist
The purest form of man now rests on this stone
"I offer you mighty Gods the people's stump fetus cherish our innocence and thrive collections of perfection pile up and rot on this stone, for approval from the thrones