without foresight, indulging is retrospective justifications,
we set the harlot hounds of desire free
and the schism we use depleted uranium to maintain
is tomorrow's cataclysmic clash of corrupted canines,
searching for the bone of truth inside a river of dingbat dogma,
dressed up as a pretentious liberating raison d'être
it's high noon as the nuclear rapist claims another victim of complacency
and vacuum-in-fear vampires make their penultimate pilgrimage
to the boneyard of progress with fangs freshly sharpened
there's no need to reinvent Terman's eugenics paradise,
for the maternal mistress has perfected the design
of her super-deluxe all purpose civilisation cleaner
soon, there will be no reasons left for her to cry her sulfur tears
the playground of linear perception: torn asunder
the pharmacy of short lived fantasies: torn asunder
on this retrograde, radioactive day of judgement,
mother mendicant will finally claim her sweetest revenge
in the end, all things flow back to the source
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