Again

Again and again, the G' strikes like lighting, Zeus bolts or whatever heresy that provokes them, this ain't Norse this that Holy within.

Locked up in the lions den, accused of blasphemy, scowth away the pain, Daniel prying out or that David Blaine magic that foams the mouth.

Amoeba eating the brain south, holly wins but Wilcox made that wood douse, pouring the unholy reverance over LA with coming doubt.

Fixated on the crucifix, a couple nails and a couple whips, lashes flying with romans speaking lisp, half drunkards barely opening lips.

Lot lizards wanna spread lips for trucker weed dips, dabs and punches, kicks and flips, this not GTA, this real life be careful who you ride with.

Common decency of many pleased men, don't exist if many leashed kin get on their knees for green Washington.