You opened the wrong box Dr. Blutstein Not the phylactery on your head Now we make Mengele real Drink from our dilated gashes That never heal Eat of our grafted on phalluses From corpses And the pus of tits zippered The wrath of all eight genders Of your Talmud Your second circumcision Strangled by your own intestines You not worthy to be crucified Upside down like St. Peter You and your ilk Who led us through other dimensions To be these fallen priests, castrated and spayed We bind you with millstone Though you may be antichrist Servant to leviathan You will burn in our lost and stolen seed forever