I
Vivid in the intrepid Livid Ibid;
giving hands thrown down hoe.
Then Job's friends hose rigid;
judging your sins, failures grid.
You shall make the Lost Whole;
then the gale rips apart, soles –
stalked a thousand miles, ribbit!
II
Frogged, groggy, the clowns drown;
dissecting the digestive sectionists.
Contrary to the Masse Paris owns;
shooting the hip, then Hilton's bows!
True Grace needs no labels nor list;
Tao can't be named, Teenspirit frisk.
Be yourself, let the Sage burn Soul!
III
Crank it up, and shine through the dark;
disrupt the void, guide the wraiths.
Demons and fiends your Kent Clark;
you're their Superman, jump the snark!
To make way and give Jesus a Bride;
to the Crossroads, force in apparitions, shydes!
May Kingdom Come, Deus Vult, Bulwark...
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