I feel like roadkill, I am mush.
I am dead serious because I was made by Metatron.
He told me to free the people and be ready to live.
My mouth be runnin loose like a real life hound dog.
My core wound is a numerical word eight-two-eight-December-eighteenth-August-tenth-two-three-nine-February-second-nine-three-six; the fifth element.
The wailing tower asks, “what is it to be free?”
“Your face is free.”
“Ok.” Well buckaroo I’ve got a song for you:
The price of betrayal has ruined the earth.
Satanic accusers sketching in scat to spherical music on their symbolic calendar.
Today is Friday, a total mess.
Their willing women without blue are turned into beasts of the field.
They are a beautiful view, let the sky fall and give us a proper ending.
The Saint, Saturn, shone brightly on the privileged Karens.
Saturn’s ray in the space of darkness shuts up their sweet and loyal demon.
The solar stargate rippled with fear; fighting the hunger to feast upon Karen’s power addiction.
Jupiter’s Palace held a lord with a short dick.
Nine miles out, there were no more humans.
The lord couldn’t save everyone so the remainder became stuck between two realities.
They were suspended on a floating world covered with deep healing waves.
To stop the divide, the armored saints played dirty tricks to catch the woman in the water.
The other sisters wished to be avenged sevenfold so, they sent burning gulls to those horse faced idiots.
The saints cried out dumb and violently as the gulls crossed the dates and aeons into heaven’s afterlife to punish them, the shapeshifters.
The beasts of the field pulled out their cellphones to film because it felt like deja vu.
The conspiracy was over, the floating world was a quiet place once more.
But Karen’s goat kept talking shit because it couldn’t get no free fries.
The beasts called the goat and informed him that man is useless.
They sent him to the meat grinder atop Mount Meridian.
Raise the ship, we killed Saturn.
Now, return to classic reality.