(BEL) HORUS (VIII)/(SUN RITUAL)

[Nekh-tarr (李)]

Sound the trumpets, your God has arrived.

To try, is to abide, we find our own time.

The degree is nine, the Hidden "One" is ten.

Prophysing the loud, we get under thick skin.

Elevate the flame, the Seraph is hot.

The Elohim that stacks, to get the number one spot.

Ready for whatever beef, the stew in the pot.

Judahite love, the hating must stop.

The marijuana buds, the ones that we cop.

Then snap, crackle, pop, the light like rock.

Instead of wine, we then, take shots.

Investing in Aquila, we pay with stock.