3 millions withered apples of one Adam
Some unscathed, nibbled, some consumed
Lying perished in dark of my cellar
I shall perceive radiance from Eve’s womb
Ravenous kings under my dusty feet
As I decant slur on Babylon’s lip
Impregnable, I stand sturdy
Sun of Syria dies suspended at my grip
Silk route to my deformed carrion
Musky grave tailored for winter doves
My tranquillity boils up in the air
Rosaries beaded across my neck as ropes
Famine and epidemic under my sleeve
I spoon you my flesh from every pore
My tissues trapped in between your teeth
As you relish me through my genital core
My shriek fills the void with gospel of Namur
Hands me evolution of my race and clout
My premeditated forfeit on your brittle palm
Shall quarantine new epidemic you pout
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