Forgive me, Father, for I am vile
To create is singular, but if in a mutual style...
Our knees aching up the Scala Santa
Less like Babel, more like Nehemiah
For there is nothing more beautiful than a human smile
Take the wheel, a barnacle peel
Juicy and hesh on the screening screel
Who do you trust?
Three bullet belts, mojitos searching through the rising dust
He tossed me the shovel, I'll dig where there's no feel