You slam the ever-open door that you are too slothful to enter.
You evaporate life-water and pour fire on infant embers.
You wear truth so wide you are blind to see; but still lead on.
You ostentatate with purity as your tassels hang from faithless neglect.
You drink sewage, from champagne flutes. Thirsty, you crush the deer.
You crumble to death-bones and rattle in finery of kings.
You murder, to fill the festooned tombs you have built. Self-exalting fallen-fools