Who is your god, covered in snot. Fuck you on a cross, and leave you a burning thought. Watch him walk away, heels: burning skin today. Bless your hands of wealth. Scab covered self. Heal the wretched artist. Pry open his fist. Savior shame of eve. Burn them dry leaves. Crawling up the tree his arms will hold me. Chop me down, religion frowns, I'll chew the thorn and bite the crown. The bird will bite the back, your heads in a covered sack.
Burn me. Fuck me. Curse me. Leave me.
With every pill we down the truth comes spewing out. Megaphone a voice to the ears of my choice. We can all be martyrs! I swear to you I'll make it so. I'll be your river running through the crowd of dirt. Drying up my shivers, a needle has been blessed for birth.
I can't say much for the scraps you left us. Burnt up lovers made a spot for foreign bows. Was he worth it? Was he worth it? Your his closet, sins bloom like ripe red bonnet. My ears stay open for tracks of your marking. I can't speak, I'll lose the plot but take hold of the credits when he shows the ending. I know who made this. I know who made this. Creation is circumstance.
I know who made this.
I know who made me..
I will be your god. Knees painted in my dirt. Get up on your filthy feet and make me your shameless eve.
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