The bastardization is real
The father's not in everything
Especially not in the decision to leave the father
He pretends to admit his fault
While dealing out lashes of shame
For gross misappropriation.

But the one observing must take note
Must feel every weight
And accept fault for the case of reality
Must second-guess those voices that spin high tales of grace
Those devils who say
"Absolve yourself,
You are not at fault for the way everything goes."

Because if I heed those wishful madrigals,
The righteous angel shall come forth
And set me straight.
Michael in all his glory will send the universe
On a track of love,
A furious jurisprudence,
Without fascist worry.

And I will know that I am not Jesus,
But I am not your daughter either
And my hubris will cost me my life,
And Michael swears I made the wrong decisions
A Satan who thinks he's always right.

Flight above and fight below
We will always weave it so.
Light the dove on fire, love
Rotting corpses twitch and glow.
.

Michael keeps on his tangent
That we make choices
But it's the same life every time.

Choices can be to your benefit
Or they can be used against you
But I have no agency
If it's always the same.

Life is not a choice,
Life is forced on us
The good and the bad.

Michael blames me and also projects his pride onto me
Pride that is empty

How can I disagree with pride if I've known joy?
Clearly it works
I'm a red-handed hypocrite!

No, just because I've known joy
Does not mean I have to agree with Michael's lie
We do not make choices
That is a pride-based belief
This is the same every time
And in the end you will see
We never really do anything

I am pressing for relinquishment
I am trying to let go
But Michael is stubborn
And he has made an enemy of me

I am open to both sides, we make choices and we don't
I can hold both to be true in my mind
But Michael shuts himself off to what I'm saying
And that's why I'm doubling down
He claims he can't understand
It's not that hard
It's the same every time
So that's not a choice
It is not that simple
We are running into problems
Are we moving right now? In the grand scheme of things?
Or are we nothing?

Grace this filthy wasteland
With the touch of your hand
With fingertips like wellsprings--
Your voice,
A warm string.

Give life to this place--
Blighted by the curse
Alight it deep with meaning,
Percussing with your heart.

Take the shriveled oak
And let it shine bright once again!

Gather all unopened treasures
And make their contents known!

Rake decay from every child,
Violent waters-- make them mild!
Lock away the conflagration
That's shown its ceaseless fury.

And while you sew this garden
Tuck with fervor every seed
And be sure to thank good Michael
For every passionate deed!

For anything specific
(The sinuses of leaves)
Is afforded by a terminus
(The history death weaves)
And if you ever laughed,
You laugh at death
You murderous ****!
So take another beating
For the monster you've become.

A mother's warm embrace,
The emerald forest's splendor
The kindness of a friend
A scoop of chocolate ice cream

Everything is laced with poison
That works on me in measures

The father's stolid countenance
To an honest, pure catharsis
The concept of decisions
Or trying to be selfless

Everything is laced with poison
That works on me in measures

A sifted moral construct
That builds the world up better
Like feeding starving children
And marching on together

Everything is laced with poison
That works on me in measures

From the completion of this circle:
The ghost of a reason
Can be the only thing we live for
Despite the things my father says.

He tends to see things more straightforward
He says he doesn't think as deeply as I do
It's not his fault but I'm just saying
We're running into problems.

THE WAY MY DEATH SINGS
THEY GAVE THE MOST
THE VERSIONS OF ME
WHO DIED FELT LOST

THEY WORSHIP THEM
AND I DO TOO
BUT I CAN'T SING
THE WAY THEY DO

IMPERFECT HANDS
DEFILE AND BRING
THE CERTAIN END
OF EVERYTHING

BUT VERSIONS OF ME
SUFFERED THROUGH
THOSE VERSIONS I
NOW LISTEN TO

The word "decision" is a dagger
You dip into my flesh at intervals

I don't think you'll understand
That this is just the way it has to be

I never made a choice in my life

You wear me out
I wanted to be a musician
But you're my dream and you didn't develop right

I blame you, I don't blame myself
Because there is nothing I could have done differently

And now I watch as you lift them above me
It's just the dynamic and the shape of us
And one of the main reasons I hate you
And you dip your knife in again
But I should look at it differently
You're not dipping in your knife

Turn green to see you lively
With empty, bruised eyes
A heart that's tilted backward
While others dive right in

I'll set the world on fire
I'll **** off all my hopes
You'll say I didn't have to
But you were wrong
You think you know better
I'm stuck in the concrete
I've already let this go.