Queribus
The hills steep, rocky, desolate
The woman, men, children, on the run
Simon de Montford, and mercenaries hungry for loot, blood
In the name of the Pope.
Queribus a castle on the top of Earth, the evil earth
And nearest to heaven
This is where they run, cutting their skin on thorn on rock
One last chance to hide, to be quiet, to find consolation
With their parfaits, their priests.
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