this man
may have a shitload to prove
he's got to settle a score
against the groove
infinite orgasm
like endless joy and pain
thunder to my ears
like a holy rain
an aural wall of waking
awash in purple paint
and a digging
of the flowers in your yard
electric rays of healing
intensify the feelingof hatred
towards the things you say
I aint
fear a man-child
has soul and semen
pathetic thought he thinks
forever
heard you caused a landslide
walking home
saw you slide the man-child
under your coat
product of your generation
product of your masturbation
product of a master plan
product of a holy man
product of infanticide
product of decaying minds
product of mass corruption
the product
and its production
