Beware of the jackal
as he has trickery on his side
As a prince of public duplicity,
he appears with all of the paraphernalia
expressing piety for his god
He struts with a facade of eminence and pretense
expressing humility for both his manner and his way
But as the light begins to fade and the crowds no longer stay
Upon a mystical world he does descend,
speaking with fiery tongue, the passion of uncountable faces
luminate in the netherworld creating images of all who have been shut down
or sadly cast away
Unborn minds with fractured brains ridiculed and ripped apart
Little old ladies thrown into the dern, a spotted cauldron
with barely a crust for the earth
Forced to stand for hours upon end, the executioner may offer a noose
or guillotine to a nude body with withered flesh and dirty vagina
Sacrificed on an altar surrounded by ten thousand vestal virgins
who are able to support their claim
They have the wings that can take them to the source,
the site of the desecrated breast that has been torn from the wool
and released by a sea otter that just happened to be passing that day
But the noxious fumes of the night are not usually known at all
In fact they are hidden from the masses
who frequently consume their crumpets and tea
In a land of opportunity they choose to defile the unwanted orphans
extending their orifices with neither sight nor sound
But beyond the landscape you can hear their tender cries rising upon glaciers
that ponder the heavens
Yet it is in the bonfire that we must learn to exist with searing sparks and tinder pyre
devouring the bellies of those who have walked apart from the dinner at five,
a magical number that is one less than six it imposes its abject sign
upon an eremite not fit for marriage assigned as a lonely spinster in immaculate heat
Her genitals are on fire but they only come to be sniffed by the childish pranks
of sacred fairies with a solid full left flank
But the young will soon become old in the gravel and the dirt
forever tarnishing the skin that had once been soft and fragile at the time of their birth
But age is a savage, it does scald and it does scrape forming white flames
on bold illustrations, another lesson to be learned
as he has trickery on his side
As a prince of public duplicity,
he appears with all of the paraphernalia
expressing piety for his god
He struts with a facade of eminence and pretense
expressing humility for both his manner and his way
But as the light begins to fade and the crowds no longer stay
Upon a mystical world he does descend,
speaking with fiery tongue, the passion of uncountable faces
luminate in the netherworld creating images of all who have been shut down
or sadly cast away
Unborn minds with fractured brains ridiculed and ripped apart
Little old ladies thrown into the dern, a spotted cauldron
with barely a crust for the earth
Forced to stand for hours upon end, the executioner may offer a noose
or guillotine to a nude body with withered flesh and dirty vagina
Sacrificed on an altar surrounded by ten thousand vestal virgins
who are able to support their claim
They have the wings that can take them to the source,
the site of the desecrated breast that has been torn from the wool
and released by a sea otter that just happened to be passing that day
But the noxious fumes of the night are not usually known at all
In fact they are hidden from the masses
who frequently consume their crumpets and tea
In a land of opportunity they choose to defile the unwanted orphans
extending their orifices with neither sight nor sound
But beyond the landscape you can hear their tender cries rising upon glaciers
that ponder the heavens
Yet it is in the bonfire that we must learn to exist with searing sparks and tinder pyre
devouring the bellies of those who have walked apart from the dinner at five,
a magical number that is one less than six it imposes its abject sign
upon an eremite not fit for marriage assigned as a lonely spinster in immaculate heat
Her genitals are on fire but they only come to be sniffed by the childish pranks
of sacred fairies with a solid full left flank
But the young will soon become old in the gravel and the dirt
forever tarnishing the skin that had once been soft and fragile at the time of their birth
But age is a savage, it does scald and it does scrape forming white flames
on bold illustrations, another lesson to be learned
