pardon the f-word it will come up often
when discussing ur altar w/ the bouquet
of roses on it; the mother of the word is the word made flesh;
I've looking for ur p* just so I can f* u
u in the darkness beside the river; here come the three angels
cuddling w/ mom in the sand of the beach
waking stars that cast no light upon Hollywood;
I have only one plan & it's a doozy;
only the one god & u have seen the unknown
before ur face got painted;
no one but I will walk through
Chinese doors to ur temple's inner sanctum's radio station;
I am u & u are I & we are one mind eternally
in a flash just like the witches
dancing round the cauldron's globe
to lip-sync their latest single badly
at dawn at the fading star leading the sun into the sky