2004-10-22 - undertherug
inside you're filled with rottenness
and dead men's bones accrue
your charm is long forgottenness
and you don't know what's true
this tepid mediocrity
alarming to the few
bedraggled with hypocrisy
and dampened with the dew
of condensation from the chill
when dawns the day - you know the drill
back into the swamp you call existence
the gaseous form of romp that goes the distance
and maybe takes you to a plane
where everything appears insane
the habits and the fetishes are dampered
with debits under credit that's been tampered
religious minds cannot conceive
of what it takes to make believe
they're stuck inside a statue void of breath
while promising us life they offer death
you should've known how you can't fake it
you're all alone now - you can't take it
maybe you won't last another minute
your future is a casket and you're in it
you judge the dancer and her pole
you call the girl a "nasty hole"
you pride yourself that you are not like her
but deep inside you're worse and to be sure
your judgement and hypocrisy
are twisted by philosophy
an anagram you fixate on to primp
lest you forget: apostacy
is: falling from what ought to be.
the problem is you're lame and going limp
you'll find someone to blame - perhaps your gimp
but let me give you something for your pimp
the mental master baiting, stroking chimp
Two things in life are certain (so let this light what's dim)
1.) there is one God, and
2.) you are not Him
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