We used to feast at the table of the Lord, Now we pile on the floor for morsels dropped by the evil one. We used to suture our own wounds, Now we strap band-aids on top of band-aids at a furious rate. We used to fill our brother's bowl, Now we skim from it to feed ourselves as we see fit. We're kneeling at the base of the satanic pyramid.

Is it fair to birth a child, when you fear they might be damned? If they take it to survive, is there a way to reprogram? If we could please be permitted to end our lives we will promise that we will soak our lips in prophecy. We've seen the end, we've seen it all. Seven year promise of peace, but not made whole. Will they already be complaecent, those who have chosen to deny? Will He still accept conversions, has He totally withdrawn? If we could please be permitted to end our lives we will promise that we will soak our lips in prophecy. We've seen the end, we've seen it all. Seven year promise of peace, but not made whole.

The bloodhounds lick their lips, while my parents write my script. I'm feeding it to you. The problem was the steeple, money they took from their own people, the lies did not add up. I survive outside your bubble, I live amongst the rock and rubble. I'm a car, I'm a car. I bridge the gap between the titles, I've rectified my dormant vitals. I'm a car, I'm a car. Patience to touch, forbearance to contact, it means shit all. Loosening grip, syphoning softly, it means shit all. Buzzards fly around my neck, while I refuse your costly health checks. I'm waiting as "The Stork." Cavalier's about to blow a gasket, and I fantasize about it's casket. When it's done, it's done, that's it.

Amanda aren't you so tired, of working so hard for thieves? We can be fulfilled in each other, and trust that the Lord will provide for us. We can fake our own deaths, and drive down the dusty roads, burn the car when we get close, and build a home around some fertile ground.

Approached the hall of the blessed flaming virgin idol, As an acolyte struck my knees with a sceptre, I was forced to bow down. We chanted: "Blessed be our comfort and hallowed be the stained glass. Deliver us to tax exemption and honour the culprit father" Culprit father told to engage in a feigned withdrawal, upon entrapment be prepared to surrender everything you hold dear. There's a hull breach in your discipleship For this time we see with unveiled eyes you wasted your time We saw the one who maximized his allotted sin interceding for those misguided enough to believe their tradition was a solace worth saving and their tepid lives could mask their blackest hearts. Blessed be our comfort and hallowed be the stained glass. Deliver us to tax exemption and honour the culprit father."

Bred and brewed in regression. Our birth was a berth to controlled collapse. In pointless lines anciently drawn on a map, where guardians wait to ambush their patrons. Am I crazy, are you free? Can't tell what's you or me. I am here and I won't move. Got nothing else to prove. Can you see the space between us? I operate on what is mine. You can't force a feeling in me. I will stay on this side of the line. Death gives birth to death, and our lives are given value from scorpions. Greed is bathed in greed, and cash is funnelled upwards by Satanists.

Was born of the circuitry and programs Milked hard on demented textbooks Made to bow before the assembly's sceptre Watched my peers celebrate similarity We don't know, and we don't care We just want to meet the Lord in the air We won't go back the same way we came in Made to slurp up the empire's nectar Witnessed countless acts of blatant treason

I wanted all things set in order, with a reasonable expanse between us. I watched you as you shaped my eyes in your hands, and then I thought you were finished. I saw the stillness of my fruitless ground as a peace to be preserved. Your voice was not allowed to come down and stir the earth. Toothpicks stuck up from a cake to Plastic. I loved you hovering over the face of my waters, but now You push yourself against my barren peace as a grain of wheat - a hard, dead fact. My perfect ocean of snowdrifts was crushed into a muddy wound, the weight of a God was mashed into my pores, as you descended. I was hollowed out as your roots dug deep into my flesh to innervate me. Reversing my taxidermy, you removed from my heart its stuffing and glass eyes. I loved you hovering over the face of my waters, but now You push yourself against my barren peace as a grain of wheat - a hard, dead fact. My prideful bones had propped you up (and kept you at bay) for all these years, and now, suffocating, I look on the shining sky whom they have pierced... pressing into me. I would not be this crushed if justice came to living things according to their kinds. Why did breasts ever receive me to nurse me? I would have slipped into death so quietly. I wanna see God here in the flesh, but will I get my due and see him in the dock, brought low, Or suddenly find him in the face of my brother while I’m wringing his neck saying "pay what you owe"? I can’t see the light for all the horror it illuminates. You’re wrapped around me so tight that I’ll be left torn into wet crumbs when you pull away. But You never intend to.