A teardrop from the heaven, get a water lily wet, will become hard rain to the hell.
By the imperial edict, to slaughter my child, burning with a bright flame, it is.
Be dispersed, mourning in his soul, the human vapor here is.
Be vexed, at the skin of a woman made of a rubber tube, I bite and stick my teeth.
For just a stage setting, and be built cheaply, over withered moors here is.