Beneath the tower of death A flock of vultures gather For the holy feast The last vision of my life A stormy cloud of feathers What fire wouldn't touch Are the remnants of my body To vultures under a steaming sun A funeral in perfect weather A curried soul survive the feast The ox has been my teacher Moustachoid a sexual beast The heredict Friedrich Nietzsche May God leave someone else to be The final zoroastrian
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