In the pentagram
I dropped a centigram of the blood
of a child-stealing jackal
you know that raised her hackles
Yes but
I didn’t notice or care
I killed a cock
and a piebald goat
it’s worse than it sounds
hear what comes out of my throat
It’s all just a metaphor
For everyone stuck on this boat
trying to be a voodoo child
I got no secrets
I got no spells
I got no incantations
and it’s probably just as well
this superbly tempered pentagram
is forged in salt
And I probably cannot deny
it’s all my fault
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