You who were a child once then of late of Satan now aer called of Jesus drinking only mild milk and eating manna in the wildernesses. Making stones now into breaded life the MYTHE is white. Scripture now Judges not. Be careful how you judge oh rich and famous amos eye knoe thee you have a closet full eyes will never burn for having pockets full only iff eye ever forget to share at all and harden up my heart the worst of you call the Goodwill truck fill it up with a bakers dozen rocks you eat whatever sold there in that marketplaced or tossed away iff ewe aer scrounge or begging money in the parking space a lot of stores iff still unwise the MYTHE is lies. Life is a never ending circle so they say and let it slip away into the dearth of all decay inside a shroud that mystic robe can never hide the sin found out the circle round the MYTHE is time. Giving left overs hoarding mold and mildewed bread until someone that eats it would be dead from eating strang decay then needing back the head and yet still scrounging finding hoping that the meat has not turned red like the color of my flame or brown like the color of my hair in idle chat of love. The MYTHE is round. We will eat and drink and rise we will partee in the night we will treat the sex as something that is due ewe and spend more time in getting over on the man who then will clue us into life the predicted adjective of time. The MYTHE is love. Now the MYTHE is done the Title won no super stations number strewn with love debunked the adages of Roman Rule we won the MYTHE.