Knowledge of the coming sun

Makes you our man.

You know just when our lives will wilt

And when our food turns bland.

Living clear assured

Of all our destinies.

And never losing time

Over miscalculated uncertainties.


Into fees

And salaries.

Putting food on tables

Takes priority

To seeing coming storms and messages in bottles.

If you have such trouble getting by

Why not just use your extra eye

To win the fucking lotto.

Extra power lies in lies you stack

In books on shelves.

Senseless Prophet.

When did you disintegrate into a homophone of your old self?

Selfless Profit...

View grahf's Full Portfolio