Bibliography

Cross my legs and reset my chakras Hitch-hike from Moscow way down to Basra Theological conman, spiritual hustler Never trust a man who can juggle the subcultures Reconstruct and puncture the text Steal the memorandum, life is a test Inexplicable stress, what's next? I nestle my head on a stone just to get rest One v One, I wrestle with the sun Burn my hands first and then cut my tongue The son of Daedalus craftsman, zealous and young Or the son of Isaac, eyes dead on the rung He slipped my hip joint just to falter my fight Flight through the night and step beyond sight Irreversible dark cast over the light Might blight my might in spite of my plight Sinners, plagues, hacking down the foulest trees In his days tracking frowns he always sees Winners play backing actuality Humble death is what we always see My bibliography crumbles your geography Your foundation cracking right on top of me Cracking right on top of me Right on top of me On top of me On top Of Me Tilted head atop body of Samsa Relive the story, write like Franz Kafka Seated on top of a mountain, clutch a cluster No monks in sight just a couple of trust busters Judge the jury, eyes on their necks Couldn't start to fathom the lies this complex Critical inner duress, confess The blessings of messengers get stressed and repressed Can't be done, they crumble just for crumbs Stumble on the first step, tumble to the drums Play accompanied parts for the hymns he hums Reconstructing the arts and parts of the sums