I was certified
ordinary at the lollipop factory but an undetected defect seized
me by the knackers and I
seen the god of babylon riding on his chariot through the cooperative
store and I seen he had sharks eyes cold and dead and joyless and he was just a boy a
youth of eternal summer but he made my blood run cold I’d give that cunt a wide berth but he’s the master of this world
I hid
from him then but I
won’t be caged no more I won’t play his bloody game it’s
my turn now to forge secrets and manufacture a legacy he kept us in the dark but
he forgot to hide the books I’ve been a busy boy I know all his secrets he
cannot chain my mind with snake oil and magic lotions so he
can just dream on because I can think for myself
all
gods are false gods there ain’t nothing behind the curtain there are no wizards in Oz all religions are man
made we crowned the god of babylon and
we can bring him down is that seditious? am I laying a crime on your ears? dummy up
and listen good while I lift the
veil from your eyes the seditious are the only honest beings left we will not live the
lie it’s something of a handicap in a world where liars and charlatans are deified
I was
as distant from him as I could be then I was plunged into darkness on the
5:15 there was brief a spark of recognition but it
was swallowed by the inky black and the god of babylon spake unto me his
first lie was epic but
his last was pathetic I don’t judge but I was never a believer he was
all transmission how could he know what I was thinking? that
limp procession of falsehoods and threats bemused me you don’t have to
do that not if you are a god he smote me
then with instruments of my own devising it took me a lunar year to scrape my arse
off his shoe
sweet pilgrim
you’d better beware so many people around you are phonies and
you could be a phony too and never know there
was a time you knelt in prayer and the words were a comfort to you now
you suspect you were only talking to yourself and that the god you built from
old stories and wishful thought has a veracious appetite and he gorges on his makers day and night that
god is the fountain of all lies and a
parchment of your imagination
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