the day a son was born,
and who calls themselves x-tian and wouldn't know jesus if he walked into this bar in a robe and bought a round of cheap whiskey right in front of thier faces?
christ's chin was covered in beard much like mine, but we been sitting in different prisons the last couple thousand years,
the neon signs say closed on holidays, dimmed, clouding our visions of a bright moment,
taught to be bought, and owned
and when my son IS born, i will be no god,
i am already a god,
we, gods placed in pacing racing mindscapes,
i taste brick buildings and fires every second dream,
stuck between beings and what they mean,
rocketship earth and since earth IS no longer birth,
we see the end in sight
proxy me a nice little cap to my night,
old friends stay close in stillborn caves of rage
22 brithdays, same old pain
on a rock filled with commodities, and peaceful warmongers,
who tastes sweet nectar and still thirsts for hunger?
if i'm dead, what say ye for the life i have lived?
don't say we don't care, we did, we did,
once upon illusion there was a man in saint loser,
who lived amongst a putrid sewer of computer-addicted consumers,
no customary clothes made by dead white designers,
he understood the connection of signs and signifiers,
in dire destitution
a new world supplies us with new martyrs to be crucified
is it you?
no, you say, well, he did it to!
civilization of pure myth
we have to know what IS true
but no one knows no more
and truth was buried with the capital G word in the early 1900's
my stockings are stuffed with the Red Scare, the Green Scare and all the Black Death of a deathcult society caught killin dead killers in the night like cowards,
Fred Hampton will tell you, they always come in the night like cowards,
pencil-pushing loner-types survey tapes for hours,
while my dreams don't have states, just media meteor showers
it's the empowered, the annoyed, the IS and the void,
with choices to make and aktions to deploy
boy, i sure do feel insane again
god IS love IS sun IS woman and man