THE NEKH(T)AR GODS (II)

[the Draç]

Confound, then bound, the fire that burns hot.

The red light that stops, the pigs that we cop.

Bound by riches, evil is then sought.

Thieves that are caught, our cream of the crop.

Meat clever chop, we down from the up top.

In which, we raise Hell, the Tree of Death that fought.

Alone in our heads, we distinguish the souls.

The light that burns, the souls that don't glow.

Rivers that flow, we trade in bunches.

Notre Dame hunches, they are onto something.

They don't know shit, their brew laced with blood.

Kryptonite woes, the Atlantean Flood.