Constants

in its own sad beauty, the perfection of the curb,

not even the rains of spring can wash the vomit

of this place, americafucking wasteland,

in my bottle i save my patriotism

rag soaked cocktails flying in the sky spangled glory

of another homeless night

why care, save for a few desolates,

teeth grinding against the swollen belly

shit-strewn is what we know

eating the genetically altered afterbirth

that you wanna call life

death is death and you cant alter it

instead you twist the umbilacle cord around the neck

toss what you want in the dumpster

who could care less, go ahead, wring your hands

afterall, you dont judge, you said so yourself

in the pews of easter slop and fine garbed blood soaked life

crap on the masses, they are the true children

hidden in the alleys digging through the gutted feast

fornicating with the maggots of one all-mighty

you'd rather draw lines in the sand, proclaim your soil

and stick a pole in it, but dont call it anything else

because you fear the names, the words, but in your head

your salvation isnt mine to decide.