Goth in the Shell
I am the Weary Scribe, The Lost Prophet, Keeper of the Holy Name. AUMTATSAT
Friday, June 13, 2014
I live in a world of zombies,
where sex/text is religion like hobbies.
And kids worship their own porn vids,
while smoking/choking the dusted pcp laced lids.
Perpetually memetically erotically demographic,
ask someone to speak/squeak the truth they just cram it.
Target fat **** people/crippled stuck to their couches culture shot,
no more to have a life than slave/save away for all they got.
And what they got they know not,
forgiveness no closer/broker inside the piper piping the pot.
For their governments/imprisonments have forgotten them,
strait faced/chased and begotten all of them.
Bow Down/drown and kiss the Crown of things to come,
like Pink Floyd I have become comfortably numb.
Apocalypse now to eclipse/glimpse all the words from our lips swinging dips, burning bodies to ashes/flesh-mashes still enslaved with hand-cuffs being whipped.
Our Future face skeletal like skeletor,
why the **** are we living like slaves for?
Why sit on your **** and ask for punishment?
When rebellion comes, don't be dumb,
jump up in it.
Counting the paper like we pack pistols for faker,
making the money maximizing the labor,
pushing the profit for the power of pleasure,
ruling the ruled with capitalizing measure.
Whether I weather the weather will determine whether I be clever.
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