One's own Kingman, Christ person, Woman God.

At battle with a mass astrengent. The bond

That blends the weak to the wise.

It's a safe assumption that you'd want

to save me now. But I'll never face castration.

For your sacred sow is left slaughtered.

Brainwashed by me. Myself influence I. Bird brained

World saver. A fake god rests dead inside you.

It's a safe assumption that you'd want to save me now.

But I'll never face castration. For your sacred sow is left

Slaughtered.

System destroyed. Exposed and unployed. The fruit

Of intention cry for their dead, but turning their head to

Ignore reality's claw. Knife to your wrist, syringe in your

Arm is your ounce of prevention. Give what you made,

And under your name on your grave, is salvation. A big

Fucking joke.

Slaughter the pig, the self rightous king for your own

Restoration. For your God is in your chest, and faith kills

What is precious, for death is unanswered.

Do sin