Jimmy Wimmy

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?