Up in his throne in the bloody sky, he don’t care what any of us got to say. We all get down on our knees and cry out oh why, you fucker, why did you give me this broken thumb, why you take my baby, why is there evil in my town?
But he don’t answer us, cause he ain’t got no reason to. He sits up there and picks his teeth with your bones and scrapes beneath his toenails with your soul. He don’t care that you won’t be alive tomorrow, another body to keep his ottoman from wobbling.
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Title by: Sonora Sayers
Story by: Jeremy
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