Good morning Jack Jesus don’t love you
He eats organic food
There’s no hilltop
Sitting by some bus stop
Can’t paint the sky
Can’t paint the sky in blue

Look now it’s morning black flag of warning
The bars are rotten no iron stopping you

Meanwhile back on 4Chan conspiracy is spoken
There’s so much work to do
Blood stain toad stool
Eaten by an old fool
Can’t hear the night
Or the light calling you

Just paying pipers thrown in with vipers
Your hands are bleeding and Christ is reading Kafka too

Cause your prophet’s just a pauper with opinions
And the only holy spirit is your ghost
The king still rules his kingdom while the minions
Are sewing up the emperor’s new clothes
So the story goes

We’re sorry Jack holy mother mourning
Evenings and weekends too
Stigmata traces
Broken starving faces
Carry your cross
The cross that carries you

All the rules are broken bitter tongues and tokens
It's gone too far and now the liar speaks the truth

— sees right through me and you–