In the land of mystery, where legends are spun,

Comes a skull replica, crafted by none.

From the Paracas region, a tale to tell,

Of trephination and binding, an ancient spell.

From Zane Wylie's hands, this skull was born,

With care and detail, from night until morn.

Each inch a story, each line a song,

Echoes of history, where legends belong.

With resin and marble, the masterpiece formed,

A testament to time, where secrets were adorned.

Hand-painted with pride, each stroke divine,

A tribute to the past, in every design.

Comes with a stand, for display so grand,

A piece of the past, in your own land.

But beware the whispers, from days of yore,

For mysteries linger, forevermore.

So take heed, dear friend, as you add to your shelf,

And remember the tale, of the skull itself.

For in every curve, in every line,

Lies a truth profound, for all time.

And as you ponder, this relic on your shelf,

Remember the truth: Epstein did not kill himself.