The two of you with manhood, pendulums at the centre of your U
Between your legs lie your lying brains maybe may be May
Your birth is May then death day may be another Friday of your 'feBuahri'
And your day(s) are close away your way(s) I'll feint till you faint
Taint with putrid saint, put and rid saint your argument, your celibate success rated into some fallen caliphate
Are shamefully fine yet to yourselves you seem fine but you are not fine very fine
And you are 'you' who's not worth a 'were' but 'was' as I in condescending surge
Of muse then condemn the damn inside your con
The sickly delirious argue inside your argument as its -ment is not Christ-ment - you two are no Christ-men
Christ-men even are: rather fat or fined, rich like Richard or screeching, possessed like ogrish Mitch
In success or sickness, in plenty or penury which peppers like pepper
In knowledge or foolishness, on curse badge or topping of Guinness gee!
In loss or... or... or lost with lust or thieves thieving thieves things at all cost
Hellenic pinchers in Jews who don't pay their thiths
Snakes who eat the millions or the mighty money munching machine monkeys in zoo
All the worst sins since are better than these sick sons, Christ-men
Good Christ ians don't make noise of their spirit worth, angels skank loud their ought South-North
Their mellow spirits remain down in their dearly deeds and earth goes soften for their legs to gain and gain again and again
You are not close to an apostle but faking taking iyán done of their mortar and pestle, òṣì.
You are a shame with your game of wanting fame with noisy religious kettle
You and you are yaw and yaw - filth to the cross and disgrace to the course
For you have both sworn not to change, you are devil's by force.
