Life is a dog and his cousin is a scary bitch
We feed them anyway and if we ever get the itch
We put ourselves for sale or give it to a dog food company
Who makes the sales of all the pieces parts
We could be
Faith is a hag and her brother is a raging dick
We embrace them anyway, time seems to give the slip
Emotions left betrayed or buried far away
In a graveyard where not decays. until were covered in the parts
We could be
God is a lie, the professorate a poison pill
We swallow anyway, forcing reason out the way
Fantasies convey a falsehood as a ended means
To kill the gentle hand guiding better people where
We could be