no idle worship in this bed.
In gorging members, fast and free,
a feast on pickled perfidy
and death, the nectar your gods spread.
Tumultuous in vanity,
heirs stand on end though fortunes pass
through empty nests' profanity.
All hail my gods! My god, it's me!
A dead man gazes in the glass.
Fortuitous through forgery,
deflecting truth for specious needs,
implanting palms through bribery,
partaking spoils in robbery,
sow wicked hearts, yield filthy seeds.
Ingenuous in argument,
the adamant make harsh demands,
determined in this effort spent,
three-nailed reply to God was sent,
'No thank You, we have better plans.'