Precious illusions
are the essence
of every good religion
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illusions
Sleep
Arches & doorways
New dawns & new eras
Closing in
On sleeping victims
We seek comfort
In our illusion of control
Like a sling around broken bones
We sleep under duvets
Protecting from the shocks
Of the sickness
That shatters our dreams
Chorusing our sleep
Mass delusions.
Oh, save my soul
From supposed blessed hymns
So full of much delusion
I can’t bear this omnipresent illusion
It’s all so full of shit
Everyone looks delirious
In this oppressive house of ‘sin.’
Where they rejoice in a ‘saviour.’
Not fit to be a king
