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The Butchermon
The Butchermon
the `iest / the butcher / Par-o mon Mr. monsignor, yeah, mizder-man O god, er, I mean Man-0-w-a-r!) Par-o mon dun butchered mi dea o religion, when e informed me TharsIzz No-G.O.D - no more! Par-o mon said, Dont yew come a wurshipn ere! as e ad his three (lil) pigs announce; This here ouse 0land is Prvaatt! Gon get yoaZ Oudda here at ouce! e assured me itz FORBID ta set afut o thar as e tol me ES meSur-god an it hs job
to manage prayer! Par-o mon told me that hed crucify (like his ill-uminating clubs done may times bfore!) assinatin, nailinup n tearin-down anyone who starts a askin questions bout his missss, ye ol big ouse the raveledbablonianore! . Not by Thoma Moore