Modern Occult

 Can you the blame the new Christ with high yellow clovers for wings?
     I vaunted to be the wife of this new dimension, such a fool I am,
 to endeavour a soar on the cobalt blood
and he envisioned upon the new motherland with crystal  
beanstalks and his eyes are
    the reincarnated twin towers
 
 
No god is exceptional for this threshold, and the ketea agrees that we live in spirituality, as diastastic as this fetus is.
 
Thee says I'm gold, but I bleed silver
Thee hates my esoteric knowledge, but doesn't dare relinquish their own pearls
Thee hates the color of my skin, yet he kills his own tribe
 
 
Thee can never understand me.
 
 
And the group shouts above and below that we bleed in fury at the downfall of our
   social class and the shutter islands  
     of commercial entities biting our toes,
 
I bear the weight of this world dear Lamia,
 
will your words agree?