DEFENDER'S RAP

• I’m sick; into Wicca, sacrificial rituals, Stitches, headless chickens, children choking on cereal; check it Im surreal with enough mental capacity to dissect the social, accurately. Aiming my fingers at evil and all’s I Am’s seeing is mad people. all’s I Am’s seeing is mad people hurting together like cattle and sheep. Will you be the shepherd or will you be the animal? Be the animal; I’m a cannibal. I can already sense my mouth watering; fist in my mandible. I’m hungry for a piece of abdomen, ligament stew like damned if you do, damned if you don’t fuck with me. I Am the macabre man dancing with the devil nearly every ballad I can. Bless you, did you sneeze? Oh wait there’s no one else here with me. Well fuck, screw it. I already knew I was hearing things. I checked myself in back when finger-eleven hit the radio.
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• I’m not paralyzed; but I seem to be struck by you. You made a shit car-tune, and blew up. Right? Damn it, I’m jealous. Wished I didn’t give a shit like you. I’d be dirty and sell out too but I’d rather be in hell, facing myself than wreaking your sound stench, noise pollution,
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• I live; I Am, an animal. This notion of social, taste me, be a cannibal. Undamnable. Respond, I am damnable. Frustrated, not social. Waste me, be so damn-able. I challenge whom I Am.