CHRIST COMPLEX from LYSERGIC AUM by LYSERGIC AUM
Tracklist
| 7. | CHRIST COMPLEX | 2:54 |
Lyrics
Everybody’s got a grand scheme, God’s plan
Might be playing into comedy, deadpan
Priest deliver mad lib script to the masses-
Scratch the spaces stained with bitter theomastix
Or an ornamental fear adorned with flouncy little phrases
And erasure, a gun shot christ in his manger.
It’s easier than coat hangers, Had no papers
He never even lived outside the fleeting little stasis
That was built en masse around his crib, in plaster brick and sweat
A testament to holy-woes and how we break our bread
The crib was gilded gold and silver, man it took my breath
And the prosper from my property, consolidated then;
Red shifted, the blood drained wretch
Oxidized on leaden now but former quite the catch
It’s really all you need to see the subdivision gentrified
cataracts that blinded all intent and prosal masterminds
overtook in tacit words, the world is going broke
Gerryatric cop on the wrong side of the smoke
And exhale a plume of fibreglass, cut the filter’s tighter hold
On nicotine and tar that’s left exultant in the cancer’s folds
But he prayed to god
He stayed merry every night
Got a lifelong job
And a blonde haired wife with a dog to match
Though they’ve both gone white,
He gotta run dispatch.
then a susaruss that echoed in the halls of gilded mangers
Intrepid little hisses and the crack of gang bangers
All compounded and obscured over long reverberations
Like the shadow of a mouse casting 12 foot capers
Would amalgamate into a scene of blood and piss
Took two shots in the dark at some kids
With a spray can spritz and the clatter on the floor
Turn one bust open to a hundred closed doors
Left the mouth agape
With the brain matter splattered all over his crude paint
Of the derelict, vicious overtly in war and peace
From immaculate and contraceptive spawning of the beast
Virgin mary, got a palid smile quite contrary
The blood rush down all the ancillary ferries
And congeal at her core, maybe fit more
Iambs on the fore-head f you in scores, whore
Festering maggots and knives in his wound
Joseph would crawl from the back of the room
And exhume old tales of the two faced girl
With the crack of a whip and the flog from a flail
But alas, the second face clash
He ended up beheaded and his body burned to ash
In a ritual that took his picturesque unsullied plastic
Marked him up with pentagrams and melted like elastic
His bones were left contorted as he writhed among the flesh
Pulled into the anomie that tandem moves with death
And enhanced upon the soothing nurture of the ego sizzle
Just enough to watch the end of gilded generations fizzle
And I’ve got a couple questions bout it
Truthfully I’m quite too willing just to eat the ballot
Or another palatable loose end- tongue torqued
Politician missing the point of blood sports
