.Pfaffen nenn ich Euch, Feinde eurer Art, tollend,
Stampfend bahnt ihr euren Weg
über unsere fruchtende Asche
Und heimlich pflanzt ihr eure Saat.
Wohlwahr - die Welt füare euch so transparent
"habt ihr ja Augen ,die alles sehen".
Mit Lug und Trug wuchert der Infekt
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