Jesus is tight but you’d probably find more happiness with a good plastic
surgeon
I’m chewing on dog teeth and hospital fat bags
So maybe we should welcome it with open arms?
And should you smell the burning and hear the screaming you can’t tell yourself
we didn’t deserve it Piles of human and antiseptic as we cut the ugly
Mothers wielding crosses made of children bones
Armies of the half dead with their arms to the sky
These who spoke against Him bled from their throats as their jaws had been torn
away
We knew it was blood because it was warmer than the air