Pharasaical Iconoclasm

And lies change perception when given a platform But perception speaks vague when change slithers inside Without force framing imagination sight in a circular motion freezes As the sun glints off the view my third eye gazing upon Her lie remains steady to lay in a maimed mold With damaged phrases half formed Then pause, then clap in sequence Let the congregation say... Amen but let the praise mute... Twelve swells shaped with a faith unknown But the splash spasms look forced A petulant echo a craving laced unkempt With a name and style her own with a sermon posh yet green Because she believes in the disease she's believing Her hollering twirls screaming All what I once trusted And none of what I need She is twelve waves unfolded She is Babylon changed speeds.