I know your past, and the foundation in which your present is being built. You seek to erect a new temple for the worship of a Pantheon of ancient gods.

Your prophecy is shots
in a barrel full of obvious  
Your apostasy rings out of the dark at unfortunate fools,
hit or miss your purse is always full
 
From a distance you spin Gypsy Thread
to complete Miser’s Dream
 
You’re no fucking King
You’re a charlatan
Just a Snake Oil queen
Pathetic back room grifter  
 
You’re just one of many;  
Another false prophet on t.v.  
We see you for what you really are,
a fortune telling deceiver and nothing more
 
Shilling your God luck charms
like a new age hippie
 
You’re no fucking King
You’re a charlatan
Just a Snake Oil queen
Pathetic back room chiseler  
 
In the end you’re nothing more than a street corner magician,
profiteer of the broken hearted
A lowly spirit conjurer
A wicked weaver at a Broken Wand Ceremony
 
 
Written by J.A. Lütz
© 2013

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dre dreaming
almost 7 years

word.

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