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You could bludgeon me with the statue of St. Francis.
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That would be ironic,
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considering that he renounced his debauchery
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before becoming a saint,
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and you, Father, living your life in complete reversal.
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Could you wrap your fingers around my throat
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and squeeze?
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Or will you use your rosary like you did with Shelley?
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I don't know what you're talking about.
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Oh, you have no secrets from me.
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Especially not after what we shared. I know it all.
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Don't worry, Father.