Smote
What's it about
What's it about
Give it shape before plot runs out
Or else be caught feckless, fuckless
Everything ending ruinous
But let's travel back in time
to me as an innocent baby
Oh shit even then
they said I was a miserable premie
So then let's travel back further
to when I was a well-behaved zygote
surely then I was someone
you'd sooner smile at than smote
But I think I'll be smote like all of Israel
Smote in the public square for good measure
Smote in the stockade at the whims of
the wealthy and weather
The poems will flutter onto the ground all around me
like a forbidden spellcasting ritual
It won't be and it will be
I'm still refining the finer points of things
Refining even now
Even this late in the story
Redefining gore til it's highbrow
Cooking sense and reason to a slurry
A suspicious foamy soup
Suspicious foamy souls
I saw the good in everyone but
other aspects made themselves known
These are the ones we elevate to thrones
The chair of Good God by rights
He's been displaced, deposed,
driven out against howling wind
It's a time loop, and it ends
as ever, where it begins
In the central setpiece montage
Where He forgives and forgives and forgives
Because we ask it, then we fight it
Swear off sin, then cram it in
Retreat from perversion makes
relapse more lurid
We can't even quit taking His holy name in vain
Surprised He ain't hit us with
whole new plague rains
Maybe a storm of nannites to termite our tech
So far we're spared even that
God surely does bless
So this time the story
will introduce a new scene
One person means what they say
Another says what they mean
It catches on, becomes a movement
People return to churches with some
damn funky music
All to tell God we fell flat
We fell out
We broke our entirety
But if you breathe air back into us
like cartoon coyotes
We'll manifest more
of what you manifest for us
and you'll have final say
on the track list of the chorus