For I Am on Your Trail, O Wretch

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Please dine, my deity of distress,
Test the waters through the silken dress,
And rest only when you desire.
O find the crest of the blazon hue,
With the simmer of the nosy tipped dreadful dew,
And rest only when you aspire.
Feast on the concubine’s lustful lard,
The daylight’s shimmer has yet been marred,
And rest only when you transpire.
Fear me, in my wrathful slurs,
Release the pens of vicious curs,
And rest only when you reach the mire;

For I am on your trail, O wretch.

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