This tacit argument has got its claws
Holding onto my throat
In my defense, you’ve got no cause
So when my body floats
Awaken the priests to come and see a
Reproduction of what you wanted inside
Tell them God has forsaken me
Make them believe your lies
All I want is silence.
Kitsch from your neighborhood keeps me awake.
Expectingly, I would mind this.
Seasoned in predictable distaste for
Manipulation.
Everything you’ve worked for, if
Humble, is fine by me.
In that, we stumble, on what’s been stirring our feet.
Grab your bags and we’ll draw a line
Half of all this shit is mine.