[UnbornBuddha]

"Demonic absolution"

Up in his godly podium the preacher remarked
His message to the nearby seekers who starve
For validation of the symbol they love.
The parishioners listen attentively to the demon like thoughts
Hypnotized by what’s disguised as the ether of God.
In the hope of salvation, the divine liquor is drunk
It’s depressing when molestation becomes spiritual touch
And it’s even sadder when your own image is lost
Replaced by the creed of a dystopian wizard of Oz
A minister delivering sinister talks about bathing in rivers of blood
Which, you go do for the sake of rebirth, like the phoenix has done
The difference is we limit our tongue to tasting only the bitterest drugs.
So, instead of healing you end up covered with shingles and pox
Resembling the very sinners you shunned. Thus,
Our orifices corrupt as we sensitize to the alchemical elixir of frauds
Cinnabar cups that make our facial features turn gaunt
The valves in our heart were the first thing Edward Scissorhands cut,
The emissary for the infernal crucifixion we sought.

How can a man dream of the future when the earth is destined to die?
Its core will explode, letting light enter those already second guessing their life
This thing we call the future is but a second of life that hasn’t entered our sight
Yet, we center our mind on the darkness of its endless nights. A senseless plight.
The future’s uncertainty is a demented design; its very nature meant to have died
I say lies!!! But, astrologers state the future can be readily read if you try
All you have to do is find a link to the past and look at the reflection that it shines
But, what exactly are they looking at, a pulsing vessel of some kind?
Were they a special child with indigo eyes whose only expression was fright?
Delightfully, I wonder if the end will have any dimensional signs
Like some type of signal or warning from an extraterrestrial tribe.
Yet, some will survive because they will choose the route of a cryogenic device
They’ll be frozen in time, & sent in space pods to float in the ocean like sky.
The future belongs to those who have the means to grow up just fine
But, for the rest of us in the hellhole, we are hoping to rise
Hopefully this charismatic preacher, Satan, opens the gates
Yet, it is not this enclosed gateway that is holding us caged
It is the carcinogens in our DNA that hold us in this plane. All the opiates craved.
Fleeting moments are clones, created by a linear chromosome phase
The future arises when the present moment has decayed
We all crave to be immortalized, like crystallized stones in a cave
But, turn batty as the future shows us poetic pain, heroic fate.
Caught in the past’s flow when our favorite ghosts go insane
At the point in time,
We’re no longer soothed by root beer floats in the day. Instead,
We await the result of purging our veins, as we atone for your pain
That you blame on us, without the slightest sanctimonious shame
Have mercy, I already wake up every day with the most metallic unholy taste.
Those who prepared for the subsequent are gloating in our face
For while they lounge in paradise, us omens go down the drain.
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