Exodus 14:
Written By, Luke Bloomquist
Lamb of god.
Slave of mankind.
Good intentioned propoganda;
the book personified.
Faith is the design,
stenciled into the wings of a butterfly
the split second before it is prey;
a blade in beauty's side.
Fuck classifications.
Drum beats and microphone checks
are the sounds of my hymns,
while your 'Jesus' scratches the 1's and 2's,
and gains rep as my DJ.
My apostles are twelve cans of spray paint
littering political art,
upon the brick walls of Jerusalem's ghetto.
16 bars can't sway a world of ignorance,
but a bullet of knowledge and culture
can make any man bleed for a lifetime.
But if this brother's blood is tainted
with society's love for aids and drugs...
then the glock that threw that bullet of knowledge,
had no culture, just a dissapointing vulture
in the form of some sort of 'messiah'.
My religion does not govern me.
Stars and stripes? Get serious B.
We wave our flag with pride as though it is divine:
red for the blood of our enemies resignation,
white for the representation
of our anglo-saxon nation,
and blue is the personification
for the ocean;
we have to throw the carcass
of the american dream somewhere, don't we?
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