In fiscal flight,
From the ravenous cavernous,
Office asphyxiated form.
Washed in wolves blood,

Sterile and pantomined.
Parting in parts the trial,
Of the worm.
Sew the lid closed,
Cough and spit into your palm,
Wih charitable charm.

Slap the bad mans wrist insist disarm.
Do the math,
The path is a narrow one,
It led me down,
To a cold and shallow grave.
On my tombstone i read the epitaph,
"Here Who Lives A Man Who Lived And Died A Slave."
Till the vexing that his hex annexing,
Animates his glorious distress.

Serve the right foot raw,
So flawed undressed.
Semi concious concentration,
Christmas cards and suffocation.
Ambulances beckon bodies,
Tires squealing,
Sirens wailing.