Fiction For An Ocean-Amputee
"To my belief.." Said the Satyr, perched in an osseous throne,
"The clouds are crumbling! The ocean is drowning! Creatures are inside of our soil!".
And since their heads lay spilled on the floor, it's time for a change of tone!",
Tryptamine fiction fell from their tongues, as they polished our brains with coconut oil.
We swallowed tales of ghosts in the sky, we coughed up our ears, our hearts and our eyes,
We're hearing voices from burning trees, we're watching surgeons dissect the sea.
"We wouldn't dare dream of thinning the oil, we're yours to use, forever remain loyal,
We're being devoured by acrididae, we crave your consent and absolvitory".
We started to wonder, started to conspire, but they stitched our lips with telephone wire,
They wrung serotonin out from our glands, they drizzled hot glue all over our hands.
"Listen to this, and it listens to you, don't doubt what you read, 'cuz all of it's true",
Our bodies were layered with aluminium foil, and our blood still flows with this cancerous oil.