Cempoala

i am the fat lord
and will offer you the earth.
(a form of entertainment reminiscent of the modern day circus)
the names of several plant species dangle from my tongue
which is like a coarse fishing line made from silver.

so, put down your flaxen robes, gather roses, forgive the taxman.
the hordes of butterflies that fill the sky are dancing.
(the one who is coming for you will lose an eye)
build your boats and carry them up to that occult heaven.
the passage is narrow, i hear.