(Anthony Albanese, are you going to celebrate my weaknesses for eternity? What are your weaknesses? Being rife with treachery and deceit?)
Where can I go, if not to persuade and dissuade?
Like they were the flowers and thorns of the same garden!
How should I discern when I visited this enterprise of my love
that my truth would scold you, but not hold you, but lose you all?
So many pains I’ve known, but little I’ve shown
Would you cause further Gethsemane, when I’ve incurred so much Golgotha?
If you all only could see, but not just with eyes
that the truth is inside, within a circle of lies
You must know I stood in between
Like a burning flesh in an encumbering shell
And I am no crustacean and no liquid mass
But their tentacles are as invisible as a fluid cask
I am not going to be coffined; they can’t impose my death
I’ve mustered around me, their so-called inflicted beasts, and been the vet
You think all these concentric circles have flustered me
I’m not a blustering psychopath (like them), but a redeeming maverick
You think I have abandoned love with every facial shave
The beard grows back again, and I keep walking the razor’s edge
You know the Babylonian (Nibiru-Eden) encirclement repeats at every stage
Those creepy fish are no flower, no leaf, but thorny bodygrabbing sabotaging teeth!
And I will, in time, live to bring about their defeat
If you should know every truth is so well-defined and neat
That whatever lies repeat can be defrauded by their own deceit!
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