Whatever god it was
Who out of chaos molded this earth,
He was a hater of dirt.
Things started off golden, because things remained unspoken.
But quickly things began to rust,
Because quickly things lost their trust.
And so the old man groaned, and his thoughts turned to fire.
But he remembered what he'd been told, so instead he let the waters rise.
From the perilous blue emerged a vessel of two,
And on Parnassus they prayed for someone to show them the way.
And so she told them what to do.
"Throw your mother's bones behind you."
And from a stone sprang life, and her secrets remained hers to hide.
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