no one has time to be saved by Christ and the devil's deeds come easy the one requires time, contemplation a sense for the inner the other asks nothing but silent instinct loud revery, and eyes outfacing the soul's abortion into the sensual busy as hell we are ex-pressing the kingdoms within til' nothing's left but the devils we are in hell with ourselves as kin and when its done and gods all gone with demons surround a pale horse trod this Christ as equation with sword a'steel does he seem a simply savored meal? ponero diabol crouch at temple door the cat within scratches "more!" entertain as host, he'll dwell within or shun huespedes and shame yor sin