I speak the Splitter’s Creed
Doggerel of Basest men
Feed the Mocker and weep.
I sing the Hymn of Fraction
Debase the Good of All Men
Dig the grave of Peace.
I am fallen from Babyl’s Star
A surly and contentious supplicant
Truth be told, inconvenient.
“The Splitter’s Wares!” I cry
“Too costly for the rich, but you,
O Wretch like me, for free.”
Behold, O Vacuum, a candlestick
A flickerless Fire which glows in you
Fueled by the breath of my roaring.
Cry out, O Rock! Speak now
Or forever be cracked asunder.
The Mallets are at the doorstep.
I drink the Splitter’s Wine,
Too bitter for the Lips of Jargon
And tasteless to the dying breed.