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||The giant color filled leaf reaches to the heavenís seat|
with a beauty large and ghastly and the smell of dying meat.
How tragically ironic for the giant leaf to eat
requires the smell of spoiled flesh and overwhelming heat.
||The flies crowd in to see, they always seem to re-emerge.|
Beauty and violence hold the same internal urge.
See them gather 'round to stare at the tower.
Giant, terrible, magnificent corpse flower.
||Hour by hour giant power, see them cower.|
Who knows what it will devour?