Fuck With the Squad I Send You Back to God – Big Bruiser Dope Boy
May 6, 2023
I know how much you say you love him
But this ain’t what you want punk
Keep talking the bull Jehovah jive to prop yourself up
You say you don’t but you just use it for yourself
You’re not helping anybody heal or know what’s real
You’re on a trend, not the mend
You don’t care, you just care about caring
You’re nice, but you ain’t kind for shit
That’s why you squirm where you sit
Bitch
God knows you’re a bitch
He knows what you’ve done lad
Your public striving only tears your heart further from his secret visions of life
Only yours
Only life
Atheists are more religious than you, which is why you have career alliances with each other
Your religion is vanity, not Christianity
Your values are your fingernails and your politics are your clothing
You go to church to meet friends with benefits
Then do drugs and fuck yourselves away from your bodies in secular satanic temple apartments
If you don’t like social media, get off social media
Get all up inside God’s Wikipedia
You wear camouflage hats ironically, which ironically does the opposite of camouflage
You’re a hi-vis, highfalutin, highlighter yellow coward, and you look hideous because you are
You are ugly because you are ugly
Fuck with the unit get exposed you’re a eunuch
You have no vitality, a whimpering formality
You don’t even have the courage to be afraid
If I gave your nipples a tweak you’d turn to dust in the beam of God’s free energy weapon
You use the Bible to masturbate your ego in really bad, self-serving poetry
Next time you pray, make sure it’s while you’re getting a haircut
You need to honor God
You’re probably hungover right now
You shake when you read
Project your voice, son!
I talked to your dad, he’s disappointed in you and you annoy him
You insult him with your superficial relationship to tradition and gutlessness to invent new ones
Every day you patent a new sin
You’d think you really were a martyr, how you compensate for your lack of victimhood with bitterness
You will meet the devil himself in your dreams tonight, a state-sponsored hologram
You won’t be able to forget this time
He will be a tall man drifting in a pool with you, facing away
You will try to turn him around to see his face but he’ll keep drifting and turning away from you
You will finally get close enough to clutch his shoulders
But before you can finally turn him around to see his unspeakably handsome malevolence, across his back you will see wounds deeper than seem possible, either as if made by horrible slices, or split from something horrible within
And they will be in the shapes of crosses
And you will fall into and get lost in their dark, endless depths
And you will wake up
And that’s who you will be for the rest of your life
This knowledge is your crown of thorns