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