Nancy Boy

I tried hiding a fishbowl, was caught in netting and seen by the world So I broke out and I evolved into a dragon and sharpened my claws It didn't help that I was first-born and thought the Father some kinda warlord After a fistful of bad metaphors I knew I didn't belong But am I also not made in the image of God Bleary-eyed and red-faced, master of macabre I may be wrong but I'm not Dorian, just beat from scripture beaten aphorisms Take it with a pinch of salt and Basil, androgyny as a conscious placebo The cracks in the bleachers bleed crepuscular and it is well with my soul But under the cold light of a projector I lost all self-control So how should I interpret Verse 28 As an elephant-skinned reprobate Just because I call God by a different name doesn't mean that I don't know grace And just I'm not bedside on my knees doesn't mean I don't pray "Can't you feel more religious?" I'm doing the best I can But what if purpose is relative and there's no master plan So I tattooed my sleeves like a Nancy boy with anthropomorphic bullshit and burdens past And I don't understand why, but everyone always asks But I fucking hate explaining their meaning, it's all so self-deprecating And I don't expect you to get it, it's just how I am