Destined to swing
To see all
To judge nothing
Above the peaks of your world

Beatific sight
I defecate in the well of life
From the swing of the Gods
Daughters of men
At theirs homeyards
Astray and thirsty

You used to be
Tidy and well-dressed
Now you don't have even a hat,
To take off when confronted
With Nephilim

You're not able
To entertain
Our papa below
If you're listening
To the droning of flies
When the carrion talks