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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Emotional >> ID #969833 |
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From The Chronicles of Death Son of Satan The seed of a warlock and raised by a witch. A hell raisin hell hound with a stone killer's itch. He maimed and murdered, those blocking his path. He made them feel small with a terrible laugh. Now he cursed and swore as he burned down the town. "All you insects are dead," "No more screwin around." He was the son of Satan in lowly human form. On the breath of the devil, he'd ride in on a storm. There's only one guarantee, that you can't ignore. He'll kill you and me, a stone killer to the core. ![]()
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