Of course you’ll get your well-deserved blessings and honor,
after it’s decidedly far too late,
beneath tons of dust in that grinning distorted crusade,
remembering how it felt to be close to your bones even then,
with a cheery bubbling glass in each tight fink,
carefully watching for all of your guests to take a first drink.
Oh, He sees where I’ve been drifting in hast so long,
who I’ve passionately had my fill of in both heart and mind,
keeping track of any left or taken dime,
still cursing my brother following five hundred offenses,
and didn’t guzzle Your spiteful lies over Sunday,
wondering aloud why it makes sense creating just to throw it away.
On your knees swearing you were fooled by a champion,
during that frightening night when I was born,
you probably woke up thoroughly soaked and screaming in a storm,
when you only had to actually read of your rescuer’s journey,
proudly flipping you the bird every thanksgiving,
although it’s merely a story because he was never among the living.
Ow, that must’ve really smarted something fierce,
being told from a winking nemesis you’re wasting precious lipstick,
deep inside feeling your once rigid steel spine break like a twig,
where eternity was imagined as an extremely brief span,
presently drowning your entire thought in consuming bitter tears,
dealing out of a pathetic life that now can’t be relieved with prayers.
Sharwrong's Song 