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No the rape was committed by one of my brothers friends,  as crazy as it sounds,I did meet Satan at the age of eight. He was  dressed as a biker long  straight black hair,footlong black beard ,and a motorcycle club patch on his denim cut, hell  knights.we talked for a long time,I was afraid someone would wake up but he assured me no one would. Anyways I forget most of what we talked about,what I do remember is,he told me he had many gifts for me,to which I replied ,where looking over the side of my bed which prompted heartily laughter from Satan,he told me when I was older I would know how to use my gifts.,he also told me he was my earthly father,and my divinity was  to start up a motorcycle club consisting of Satanist only.

Maybe we can work something out along those lines

That's gotta get in the way of your tortilla making. 

Which is a noble and proud profession. Tortilla making takes a gentle firmness, a knowledge of utensils and cooking aids.  There is an art to rolling a tortilla, omlette, or even pancake.  To make it come out just right.  At the same time you cannot be so overbearing you jam your fist though it and tear it.  

I wanted to be a tortillera, but alas, there are some discriminatory practices that provent me from tortilla making, and Latin countries aren't as open-minded as Facebook is. 

Big enough to bring you to orgasm multiple times.

Su maricón? No eres lesbiana?  Porque sabes que escucho eso...

Ah, nevermind. Enjoy your butt-fucking. 

WARNING: PAINFUL. 

If rather do the rapping. 

Speak these words as a sniper,

occulted camoflauge viper.

Left of the stone to decipher, 

prose paid to no pied piper 

Never before or left to discover, 

what passes for one, passes for the other.

Kept hidden beneath tempest waves brother 

slave like a Hebrew's venareal mother.  

Toil for sacrosanct trinkets to emplore

for these new ideas to become the gods of before

The father of the dirt and the phoenix rising flames

From the fall of another in famine and plague 

Another new story, or the same new way 

Another new myth for the same old day.

Okay, it just sorta went into lyrics there but.... I'm white, so I have no inherent concept of rhythm...

And now I'm just turning it into a poem.... And it's still painful and lame. 

I've been away from Satan. Do I need to pray to Satan?

No... And that's the beauty. 

Only after you enter into a deal of some sort do you become contractually obligated to do anything, and even then it wouldn't be praying. 

The hard part is getting that fat-ass Cadwallader to show up. 

I have TRIED to sell my "soul" for fame and fortune.  Even learned to write better music to have a tangible skill, unfortuneately when there are thousands upon thousands of others that can do what you do best better, no Faustian contract can extricate you from obscurity. 

Also helps to not be an asshole.