Jimmy Wimmy\'s beyond that of simple
We will drink from his corpse most free and vast
And we will treat it like a bruised temple
Man, this man is greater than a blast
Sipping at his cold/still/boundless blood implorable
We rest and enjoy this dish, this sacred time
His might we fear will be not unmove\'ble
And we reside in his necrotic slime
This temple of rot from nigh simple man
Cost us our most nacent mind, tinderly
Nimble and wimble are its dead timeless breaths
Creeping unto our most native unconscious
We ate his track, and devoured teethum
And expanded his length, most archon-like
We shit his blood to our new sound anthom
And we stool in his shadow most smelling- like pike?