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Fruitfully We Multiply

Updated on October 10, 2016

If only I could regergitate
all of this apple that I ate
slowly it poisons every piece of me
as I descend with it in its gravity

we are all laughing on our throne
we chose and we rose from the tree
such a will, is no will to condone
so perfectly this putrid fruit poisons me

surely it has long since been forgotten
this knowledge, passed over, passover
this bread we are molding, the apple is rotten

we are babbling words we cannot hear
the language we speak can never be too clear
plagued by every faction, of our fables
fictions are laid to fact over a dinner table

surely it has long since been forgotten
this hopeful, passed over, in passover
this bread is molded, the apple is rotten

we preachers, gurus, new agers are forcing our fables
but it brings us together at our righteous round tables
we have secrets sewn in our teeth and reaped any opposing jaw
so we can truly never speak of what we think we know or saw

fruitfully we multiply and forget all those lessons and lore
this life, passing over, away from your passover
our bread is now breaking, our apple's arsenic is in its core


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