A thousand thoughts on a carousel, religious treason to that I fell,
cruel jokes and demented tales parade my thoughts dressed in compromised lies, how well they fit a desperate mind.
So much intel creates a fine line between heavan and hell,
a genuine passion under investigation from a source that cannot be confirmed.
Chinese whispers within a book of lies will no longer surfiest,
a brazen god of human touch is what I long to reinstate a faith
of self provided trust, and if faith lies within then damn me to hell
for I have walked the devils playground and found no solace in gods pasture, so keep your wine and fuck your bread for we are one,
and for I to accept you,...you must accept me.
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