ANOTHER SEAMLESS OPENED ROCK

How steep the rock has become
Yet the king steadily climbs
To behold the running curse
And its worshipers behind
Hands soaked in blazing arrows
Like a flock of featherless birds
Leaving trails of black and yellow
He must go get every bread
You plan to swim in a frosted sea
Where your ancestors dwell
Skins, bones but only money smell
A maiden honey drowning its own bee

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