It was  just a song
on a holiday
the words pressed,
was on the tape,
Madonna's holiday,
and my sister told her,
My mother reared me
unconscious
and I woke in a pool of blood,
minis some little teeth.
A holiday I can't forget.........

What is so brave
a dust that's cared its dared
and what's seen has its been been
I never dive to the dive of witch.
I never saw the one of hermit
not as risen to the cremation.
just a suxk to all the sea shell,
and not of the fierey hells.

There a time comes with every  goes around,
blow up in the name of god and your pride,
distance streets hear of the blasts and sounds,
An initial rush  starts the merry-go-round

So lives this fantasy, of bombs tied to you
that 50 un-touched virgins will be all your truth.
Believe the master to fool  to the violent cause,
and the ones swiped under the sewers are the fools.
There's no heaven but the abyss of insects that which you crawl.

Streetsweepers bury your skin guts and eyes,
flows into the gutters , fingers and toes
You brought on misery & cries.
A justification you allowed and always known
Paid life for death for life and life pays for death
and now get eaten by the bugs under soil beneath.
No ****** would want a decomposed vile martyr
rotting at every of his limbs so ****** & twisted apart,
and a vision sings of brain-washed sowing to his craft.

Trump is no angel but a heresy,
But both sides are the devil
And no side is good,
No side is pure,
and this world spins like a feeble,
weaved by a spider of no wonder.
And everything gets un-done.
This world now has never won.
Its too late for good to begin.
Animosity cries for the word that's win,
We are all just sinking away,
there's no luck for another day.

A new town of secrets and sinners,
wealthy & the street frozen grinners,
bellies warmed with 80 percent proof
Sleeping ***** at night with rustling hoofs.

The local inn flips the sign as they see him
in the distance in rags and needing a trim.
Hair covers his rugged scarred filled face,
Ever a stranger, in a cess pool of a place.

He journeys down to the abandoned lake-house
where his visions saw 4 of them rip off her blouse
and after they took turns, buried her with stones,
His feet raising, lifts remains of her bones.

He  blasts explosions in the soil by the waters,
and buries her in the greenest of patches,
It begins Nightfall & will end by morning
and those complicit shall join the dead.

Preacher, splash some holy water,
on the face of this last Warlock,
I watch my skin scold as it fizzes
as you pull your gun out and let it ****.
I vanish & appear as the vision of her
the one not filling void you miss.
You lower the rifle as you tremble,
and point it under your pale chin.

They say never look into its eye,
you'll be hit with the shadows
of the lonesome who died.
Demons scuttle along the ground,
like bugs in beat to all the decay.
Moaning their  vocal sounds
as they wear broken halos,
their tarnished wings can't fly.