Insecurities of a Demi-God part 3 by TheRager Lyrics
The era of transition,
What terrors may come to brand you
Keep sickness under the umbrella of folklore.
It all rains the same but for others, it’s bloody.
–
Did you ever get to see the deleted scenes?
I hope not.
Books contain life but there’s no need to be snitching.
Been shooting blanks since April.
Pled with the director to yell “cut”
Struggling to pray to white Jesus because I’ve seen black Christ cold on a table.
The irony that saviours don’t last.
The story is getting old.
Took a universal minute
Left this realm faithless,
Rise three days later in the garden with my kicks scuffed.
Residents asked if I’m dead because the cool had never before been seen faded.
But no.
I just had a date to keep.
Illusions adamantium plated,
Clouded fortresses will remain heavily gated
By the three headed Anubis wielding a staff that left Horeb.
Scarred with a sign that read “patience”.
The task was to numb pride till the guardians saw fit to split the caged citadel that held the solutions, apart.
The demons returned elated, to black skies & blood sands that we all caught on film.
Diet on fluoride for the second chance of the second coming.
Recite your lines & whitewash the hopes.
Two down.
Puppy dog eyes for the hopes of good behaviour.
Decades float by as a lazy day.
I read I was lazy today.
Double cup of cyanide on the the road to Sinai
& my throat is getting dry all off the strength of patience.
Smoked myself into a tombstone, the dark force of vapours
Pride taught me the pale silences, that you’ll recite back to me.
Eulogies as a swan harmonises
& as I sing, I can tell; this is all getting old again.
As far as I know, you’ve been crowned the thirteenth apostle
Keep in mind, broken dogma won’t be forgiven by his subjects.
I’ve got scars.
There’s no metaphor.
I’ve got scars
& the comfort are these metaphors.
So give me reason to not switch tools & lower my aim.
Is the view amazing?
If I went through with it, is there long distance?
Rules are rules but he has a heart too.
Maybe not.
Do those pages make sense or was it all a placebo?
Not all of can have as many cheeks as Jesus, I heard he’s an ass; I mean he went back to his God & I never got mine back so why will I still view him as a hero?
I’ve got scars
If it pleases you.
Told me if I really miss you, you’re only a reflection away.
A couple strangers away.
Between a dentist & an addict.
Happy crucifixion day.
What terrors may come to brand you
Keep sickness under the umbrella of folklore.
It all rains the same but for others, it’s bloody.
–
Did you ever get to see the deleted scenes?
I hope not.
Books contain life but there’s no need to be snitching.
Been shooting blanks since April.
Pled with the director to yell “cut”
Struggling to pray to white Jesus because I’ve seen black Christ cold on a table.
The irony that saviours don’t last.
The story is getting old.
Took a universal minute
Left this realm faithless,
Rise three days later in the garden with my kicks scuffed.
Residents asked if I’m dead because the cool had never before been seen faded.
But no.
I just had a date to keep.
Illusions adamantium plated,
Clouded fortresses will remain heavily gated
By the three headed Anubis wielding a staff that left Horeb.
Scarred with a sign that read “patience”.
The task was to numb pride till the guardians saw fit to split the caged citadel that held the solutions, apart.
The demons returned elated, to black skies & blood sands that we all caught on film.
Diet on fluoride for the second chance of the second coming.
Recite your lines & whitewash the hopes.
Two down.
Puppy dog eyes for the hopes of good behaviour.
Decades float by as a lazy day.
I read I was lazy today.
Double cup of cyanide on the the road to Sinai
& my throat is getting dry all off the strength of patience.
Smoked myself into a tombstone, the dark force of vapours
Pride taught me the pale silences, that you’ll recite back to me.
Eulogies as a swan harmonises
& as I sing, I can tell; this is all getting old again.
As far as I know, you’ve been crowned the thirteenth apostle
Keep in mind, broken dogma won’t be forgiven by his subjects.
I’ve got scars.
There’s no metaphor.
I’ve got scars
& the comfort are these metaphors.
So give me reason to not switch tools & lower my aim.
Is the view amazing?
If I went through with it, is there long distance?
Rules are rules but he has a heart too.
Maybe not.
Do those pages make sense or was it all a placebo?
Not all of can have as many cheeks as Jesus, I heard he’s an ass; I mean he went back to his God & I never got mine back so why will I still view him as a hero?
I’ve got scars
If it pleases you.
Told me if I really miss you, you’re only a reflection away.
A couple strangers away.
Between a dentist & an addict.
Happy crucifixion day.