Journey of the Moles — Belobog Ancient Poetry Collection

Chubby Larry walking one step every three seconds To cross his brown kingdom Past the Forty centimeters of mine cart Past the Festival that lasts from winter to summer Qlipoth had said We should build his temple with love But humans only ever offered rocks and words Qlipoth had been here And gave him a sexy pickaxe He thought it was a secret He always faced the night deep in the mines, and shouted with his arms up high Chubby Larry! He thought he probably wasn't young anymore Fifty years of song Sealed away his arms like a mine collapse Larry of the Broken-Arms! He embraced the winter like a rock crab and roared He walked past the silent beach of broken rocks with his draft His boss always scolded him With a ring of glory! With the clouds! Lazy Larry! He stared at the funeral worm at the corner And cried in front of them, alone Larry the Crybaby! People no longer needed his stories Using the wanted poster of poverty as silver threads, they sewed his mouth shut Sorrowful Larry! But he could still hear The breaths of flowing ores and the running steps of words Sorrowful Larry had to live in a portable coffin Taking out his sincere pickaxe Folding it into the form of birds he had never seen And flipped backward twice in overcritical degrees Mute Larry! Weaving lyrics in the caves all on his own He ate seventeen, Soothing Mushrooms He said, "Wake me!" And seventeen poets slapped his face They say, Larry was no more! Larry had nothing and crossed the Great Mine Like an iron pickaxe, he was buried in the earth The passersby never saw this They just say A chubby man fell asleep