[•]
war games begin in the womb
give birth to infant espionage
your mother was a missile launcher
she fed you broken treatises
clothed you in a rhythm and blues fashion
you grew to hate the West
until you became their brand song
which was fine and dandy
until your career tanked
and so you fly towards the sun
believing death to be a rebirth
and not what it truly is...
water under the bridge
and water under the bridge
eventually rises
]•[