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.