The High Priest was queerly perplexed
When the cultists spilled blood on the text
He was heard (to his shame)
When the Outer Gods came
Chanting “sexed” when it should have been “hexed”
Though the cultists were dressed to the nines
The Grand Rite was of unsound design
For Cthulhu to stir
With his buddy Hastur
They should wait for the stars to align
A fiendish fakir fond of floggin’
Was found with a bug in his noggin
As we drilled in his head
He was heard to have said
“Cthulhu Wagn’nagl Fhtagn”
With my roleplaying buddies I planned
A Lovecraftian rock n roll band
When the media tires me
And asks what inspires me
I just show them my pineal gland