They will come to you Son When the world Is at a precipice They will be desperate And you, Clueless Keep this wisdom That history grants you That when money’s power is at a zenith Tyrannical And they are unable to control
My gods Look at me Like gelded phantoms From the ruins of their tombs As I supplicate to foreign gods And they serve me well Maybe better My deities toss and turn Trying to catch my attention Managing momentary accessibility In my