Feeling Like Our Father

A passion of blood swormed all over the phacenity just to let our former humans know a whip can never deliver me rust can be shoved into my skin however ill be back again you can spit in my face and mark the freedom that my father gave us today cowards never believe in faith just what is visable in front of there face you can watch me bleed from a cross but if you tried to help me i know my words have rubbed off no remoise of my soul how can you save your own toes walking in a gardern of quick sand with the devil sins in your left hand sinking to the bottom because the things that make you feel could be the things that make you kill i sprout up with gills staying above the water if i shall sink under my soul will feel like the men in the thunder who watched our father die now paying for it under the sky