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'Neath grass unkempt, on slopes windswept,
  where crawlers crept, the Relic slept.
When nations spread, men fought and bled,
  and on the dead, the Relic fed.
As time wore on, with mankind gone,
  the Relic yawned: now was Its dawn.
Crowed at last, Its evil massed,
  to conquer fast, this planet vast...

TYPE YOUR MIND (BUT DON'T BE A DICK)