Who yoked the bulls annon
must bodefully have poisoun.
Storysse ov faerless men will
mixt with in the helmette.
Turn Mars Ultor, dispenser
smalysh teaths ov existenses.
From whits quyght ‘pon ded laye
wepins grow, humain skelitons
who, as wuasua knows em avers, lifft themselves lyik brothers.
