Round-tongues give it form and shape
The it that is turned into he
They whisper to his decayed bride
To honor him, to worship him
They name it father, dreaded so
They pray with blades of dreaded blood
They speak one facet of the truth
Something clinging to their tongues
Shapelessness given form
Change turned to stagnation
One truth that becomes untruth
A brotherhood of something eyes
