In The Wake of Winter Purgatory

Use your arms, churn the butter, feed the pigs, this goddamn computer is malfunctioning!
Chewed up my heart, now all the ghosts want to do is dance Swan Lake, now all the devils wanna do is idolize the prophets who starved to death in the name of Jesus Christ!
Beat the slaves, I’m the slaves! 
Beat the murdered, I’m the murdered!
Beat the poor, I’m the poor!
Still begging for dollars,
still on the side of the highway
vomiting the poison of America,
I don’t care about my health baby, I’m a mad man, you think Hunter S Thompson took his daily vitamins?
Stop!
Use your mind?
Find the man in the famous blue rain coat, find the chords that Robert Johnson stole from the devil, find the words that Dylan Thomas fucked out of the fairy, find the hidden sun that Prometheus stole from the world, find the crumbling caverns that Zeus was almost butchered in, find it all or find nothing at all, same ole circle spinning, different feelings at different levels of existence, I’m a sinister coward laughing at the ancient dancers.
So dance you fools, dance while there’s still flames melting the sacred soul, dance while the hawks still fly blurting out salvation.
In the wake of this winter purgatory, in the last breathes of my rusting lungs, I cry, I cry for hours and then the portals open, dimensions bleeding out the blue apocalypse that these gods have gifted the lonely idiots and I am idiocracy itself, gift me your fruits for I have gifted you my flesh and bone.