If I was a lay theologian I’d have a loaded interpretation of a notion of Jesus and his reconciliation
To forgive your mother as only a son can as the Son of God forgave another accident called Man
I feel like we’ve been coddled and catered to for too long left us emaciated and intoxicated
In the clutches of mother, meaning no harm, but no psalm can be learned from the skin of her arms
And you carry on her disregard
Like the art of corrupting your brethren with the bitterness you spend
To leech and depend
My mom said I always was no good at picking friends
But God picks my friends
I just pick how it ends
Drift apart into apartheid play pretend
Amended beginnings end again
Drift apart untouchable and recompense
Never to begin to end again
And my mom held me in her arms and said
Nothing to set me free nothing inside it
I could’ve been dead but she made a life it doesn’t seem right to disrespect it
A coddling that left me crippled, nothing against it
Against time because it’s the hardest thing to digest
Against me like a cement black rose in the barrel of a glock
My mom taught me my only enemy is the flock
Put my fist through a clock it’s my real nemesis
Never to end never to envelop this spatial dimension where it’s eminent, we probably got God feeling Daedalus with our relativity shit
You say you’ve fashioned wings, I wouldn’t mess with it, I’m not impressed with this
We probably got God feeling like Daedalus

We probably got God feeling like Daedalus
As the play plays out it develops callousness
We probably got God feeling like Daedalus
It’s about time to go ahead and end this shit