Nothing’s what you perceived
lying in your bed of roses
Oh, how you’re deceived,
the lies of Moses.
When esculent fruit
was forbidden high
beyond the offshoot
up high away from the gadfly.
You plucked it instead
without warning or concern
opened the devil’s fountainhead,
unravels war, yet, peace unworn.
Crowing Queens and nighing Kings
now rule with petition and fear
and poverty they sling
and grief an eternal year.
Something’s coming down the road
where the ghosts meet down at the cut,
across the forsaken unlivable abode,
Hell revisited where thine eyes shut.
