The Messiah
They all take it upon themselves to be the messiah
Messiahs for all and sundry
Wrapped tongue, covered bellies
Only the Messiah knows what it’s they conceal
They hit you, left, right, and centre
Ill wind blowing no good
How I for say am, I don tire
Life’s worth on ‘egometry’, egocentric
Only in their eyes the worth they see
I’ve so told me long ago
It’s out of the box I live
In eyes beset with nothing but lure
In your lair I stay no more
You can have all you have given
Ill wind does no one good
Life’s ground is filled with even opportunities
Yet the so many of it lie in cards
I lie not because it’s never my turf
My destiny, our destinies lie in our hands
To hell with ‘egometry’
To those golden tongues, blazing
I’ll feed them, the messiahs.
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