God of Dust
I know not how to prevent your secrecy
A god of dust delights not me
Your aerie of fire sent for a beggar
It holds a handsaw to faith and apprehension

A confession of pestilent obligation
Conjures a canopy for my reputation
Your fellowship is heavily preserved
And your faculties are the quintessence of appurtenance

A nation of controversy and ceremony
The tragedians grow themselves southerly
A philosophy of cuffs and profit
An estimation of inhibition and rusty entertainment

The paragon of humorous animals
Sent a sterile visitation for me
Children are gentlemen with liberty
My endeavor is admirable but tyrannically poor