The kind of fire we have doesn't just cause the waters to boil,
It burns on the surface of the water.
Call us holy-ghost mopol,
like referee, we detect foul spirit.
We are spiritual,
Spirit-inspired poets.
Our lines put demons in their place,
When we write, we make things right.
Our pen is a torch that touch, to many paths it gives light.
The only language we understand is tongues,
the only place we love is the secret place.
Just one thing we cry today,
"Lord, would you revive us again?"
A_Clef
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