Reverend, reverend, is this some conspiracy?
Were gonna take what’s ours to have.
My self insanity has taken its toll.
Morals on a backwards globe.
Body suspended by chains over razors and nails; it’s a penalty.
Ungracious bludgeonment that breaks the Earth for miles.
Life crushing turbulence, this wrath can’t be denied.
Echoes haunting, a hollow planet, lacerations, dissected nation.
Drenching me with laymen’s sins.
Many distant miles away, past the shores of ever dark, there stays a magic man who bears an evil mark.
There’s a place that I keep deep inside me; it can trigger my mind.
So now, this is the art; to shred—it’s only emotion.
Unscarred by trials.
Can’t you see I’m easily bothered by persistence?
I’d kill myself for you; I’d kill you for myself.
You run and hide for the mere fact that you feel inferior; Be superior—and know your interior.
I’m bone, brain, and cock. Deep down: stronger than all.
Then the memory of shame birthed its gift.
You used complexion of my skin for a counter-rascist tool.
One day we all will die: A cliched fact of life.
Too young for one’s delusion, the lifestyle cost; venereal mother embrace the los$ [sic].
In a way, I serve too many masters.
These hard lines and sunken cheeks are part of what the Christians mean to immortalize my situation.
One’s own Kingman, Christ person, Woman God at battle with a mass astringent.
Look at the ground as you choke me up, does it taste like tequila?