the shogun of slogan with no gun unsheathes his sword
come to cut the throats of liars, spreaders of dischord
the slipshod triptych depicted a slacker christ chilling
you will be forgiven if you show a little willing
i'm erratic, spastic, cramping on the floor and more
unsure of amour my heart's flaw on the linoleum floor
the slick push of rubbery meat against the nylon sheet
that wraps around us to confound us and dumbfound us
setting light to our heads to burn the shadows around us
your soul fills with molehills growing to mountains of love
the cliche velvet glove the unallowed love, the push and shove
through the china shop the minotaur now trapped stomps
old folk withered like the twisted ghosts of mangrove swamps
we'll arive somewhere with some flare fired into some dark sky
where constellations aligned and stars that died said why
one step onward was less of a choice in a different voice
in a different place with a different face and dance
fate annoys death cloys, the useless toys and pretense of chance
this why he comes to cut down weak flesh and words of nothing
kingdoms where the sting comes after knocked out stuffing
builds leech men fat on the bad blood of the bankrupt
we schlepped, sold what we'd kept, we're inept and empty cupped
but we have the vestige of try and nearly to fill our heads
empty larder, times are harder, clothes are tattered threads
and the philosophy failing and jailing and entailing poverty
seems to be the source and giver of force to the hypocrisy
cut down every beautiful thing to postcard size
this is a trading post where you sell your soul and eyes

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