our false prophets

you spread shit on everybody's toasts
you are fate's dreadful boasts

today you just woke up. wanted to be saints
redeem your dirty selves. november rains
won't drain your filth won't wipe off your blame
storms ll strike back carrying black pains
wet naked leather coat agonies


you stink of purity
ancient parching affluence
and cloying whiteness
couldvebeen deities
you re coiled up barreness...
instead