Sin

Both lucky and deadly are the qualities of seven You can trust me or repress me, it’s astonishing what people can do with stones and sticks At the age of six I truly believed in heaven And some semblance of rememberance is possibly why i’m still alive On a pentagram, those points, those five can represent the devil And how he’s forthcoming in our penchance for the deadlier side of living But for luck I’ll take the magic number three and watch for magic tricks “And I second that motion”, said the man in the boardroom, grinning. What happened to one love? It’s looking like we’re heading towards one state One corporate nation, rule the world and dice it, It looks more like one hate. Prioritising, merchandising, In commodoties I place my priorities. Fat cats and smack rats, Decorated in sinful qualities. What, sin? Sin is the grease that keeps those cogs moving. Sin is just the slander in a false gods self help leaflet, literally demonising your base instincts, time to seek treatment. Give me seven Hail Mary’s, Give me six white Russians, Give me a five knuckle shuffle, Give me four fingers and a thumb, Give me three minutes to finish, Give me two’s on a cig when I’m done That leaves one. One life, it’s not a joke… That you can laugh at, anyway http://samnicholasharrison.tumblr.com/