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Father Fate
in the middle of it all the center is rotten
and is as foul as death a week old
razor-sharp claws and fanged teeth
scratch and scar the flesh
making the body a canvas of blood
cymbals and raging drums crash the night
entrenched in the shallow fate of most men
a silence no longer golden but red with rage
listen children your heartbeat is failing
and your eyes going dim watch out now
watch out for the black curtain that's
coming soon to a theatre near you
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