I see it in the bathroom mirror,
and on the horizon, coming nearer.
It’s dripping from a dollar bill-
I sell it off but touch some still.
I hear it dripping from my car,
I hear it comes from wells afar,
I see it seeping from a stone
(that monolith we call a phone),
and spilling from our eyes at night
while sirens dance in rays of light.
Now as I shower for an hour,
I feel it filling up a tower
all the way up to the moon.
This tower will come crashing soon.
It is the milk of death and strife,
yet some would say it's the stuff of life.
Some say that it will set you free-
in blood they tried to baptize me.