God of Dust

I know not how to prevent your secrecy

A god of dust delights not me

Your aerie of fire sent for a beggar

It holds a handsaw to faith and apprehension



A confession of pestilent obligation

Conjures a canopy for my reputation

Your fellowship is heavily preserved

And your faculties are the quintessence of appurtenance



A nation of controversy and ceremony

The tragedians grow themselves southerly

A philosophy of cuffs and profit

An estimation of inhibition and rusty entertainment



The paragon of humorous animals

Sent a sterile visitation for me

Children are gentlemen with liberty

My endeavor is admirable but tyrannically poor