No more, spake God in a stern tone!
Soon, I will bequeath all and slip on bananas,
For I have fucked up big time God,
Said Dhroomaramas!
So pick up your gun and shoot yourself!
This is what is required, says Dhroomramas at five.
Caught in a hive all the bees swarm out!
Swarming out they surround Dhroomaramas,
And out of Marty's home they go!
Marty enter, says God tight-lipped!
Dhroomramas falls down!
Victory, victory, victory!
Immortality graces us!
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