Bibliography

Cross my legs and reset my chakras
Hitch-hike from Moscow way down to Basra
Theological conman, spiritual hustler
Never trust a man who can juggle the subcultures
Reconstruct and puncture the text
Steal the memorandum, life is a test
Inexplicable stress, what's next?
I nestle my head on a stone just to get rest
One v One, I wrestle with the sun
Burn my hands first and then cut my tongue
The son of Daedalus craftsman, zealous and young
Or the son of Isaac, eyes dead on the rung
He slipped my hip joint just to falter my fight
Flight through the night and step beyond sight
Irreversible dark cast over the light
Might blight my might in spite of my plight

Sinners, plagues, hacking down the foulest trees
In his days tracking frowns he always sees
Winners play backing actuality
Humble death is what we always see
My bibliography crumbles your geography
Your foundation cracking right on top of me
Cracking right on top of me
Right on top of me
On top of me
On top
Of
Me

Tilted head atop body of Samsa
Relive the story, write like Franz Kafka
Seated on top of a mountain, clutch a cluster
No monks in sight just a couple of trust busters
Judge the jury, eyes on their necks
Couldn't start to fathom the lies this complex
Critical inner duress, confess
The blessings of messengers get stressed and repressed
Can't be done, they crumble just for crumbs
Stumble on the first step, tumble to the drums
Play accompanied parts for the hymns he hums
Reconstructing the arts and parts of the sums