Herein lies the crown Jagged to the touch –brimstone forged Vaulted within the illusions Clergy of kings, vermillion and engorged. These are the times Of the peasants’ pestilence Resilient and the pious Praying to be cleansed Herein they crowned the lies Gilded swords cross the throats of the sick and the blind Halberds arch the path Devils scrutinize as the millstone grinds. Tyranny is the pox This citadel, sick with material bliss Spines will shatter upon the rocks This earthly divide: Alms and Avarice. In this great city, charity is the leash upon the destitute, ensuring their survival and containment. Salvation, a commodity, is bought and sold in writs of parchment. The benevolent prophecies most palatable by forked tongues have been engraved into man’s law, and liars and lechers enjoy sanctified immunity in the name of an aberrant crown. Alms are given to quell the rage of hunger, and Avarice has built this earthly layer of the underworld to pay homage to an unseen malefactor.