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Blood red moon, blood of Christ, sacred mystery
In land of vice. Pharaoh’s doubt, Moses’ hand,
So much blood shed across the land. Who is
The Way, The Light, The Truth? And which of us
Is in cahoots with vile, dark, demon seed?

The Book you use to impress with such hate
Will open not The Pearly Gates. Beauty
Lives, pray it can be so, hatred is the
crop we grow. Too many shouts, oh, what fear!
-Leaves our loving balance in such arrears.

The tools we need are all around, simply
Look, they’re easily found. Hearts cauterized
And scarred for life, left to sift through wrong and
Right. The hand that holds sacrificial knife
Is trembling now as it sees His great might.