More than in fight, more than in strife,
I find myself in war for life.
The mama of the whore to kill.
Her name is Mammon. Sick her will!
Her son has no stringent assumption.
She leaves her daughter to consumption.
The will in her mind to be bought,
the wish the father to the thought.
She cannot stand the force of light.
Her powers only work at night.
By words of God in thought and speech
the knights will let her darkness reach.
Monday, 13 April 2009
I find myself
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