Your eyes tell stories,
entire stories of self riteousness.
Your mind a serpent, which speaks
of the Millineum and one million glories.
Your petty words make me sick.
So sick i think i could cry.
You sit so god-like, high atop your Lotus Flower.
Come down and speak an attitude set pre-sour.
What do you say now?
I'm listening.
Good bye to your petty flower.
Good bye to your petty flower.
No more pretty flowers.
No more false super powers.
Can you stand now, unselfish before me?
You do what you feel is right,
Even when its wrong or right.
Often tricking others by what they read.
Thats why i never read into you.
You spit your seickness from your flower.
You spit you hatred then you cower.
Did you ever realize when no one believes, you have no power.
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