The Myth

Dangling a cigarette from the lips

Lisp like I'm taking a trip
Through the milky way

And again up the mountain
Pushing dead weight like Sisyphus

Like Jesus brought the fish
Was the best of us
Before the crucifix
Yet remains immortal
On this plane,
Perceptible

To the only ones willing to die 
By fire, brimstone, work the crucible

Guilt for the shameless,
Wisdom for the gullible
Looking over the tall fence

At the back of the yard
Spying on the evil residents
In the residence of the president

The precedence for this seems to be such that
You either hit or miss
And I'd rather try for higher stakes

In the game Battleship
Than die at the hands of cruel fate
As the dead weight

You push further
Your body bogged down by the murder

A boulder with perpetual momentum 
When perpetual momentum's a myth in shambles

Concur, I concur

Without knowledge of the inner mechanics

Turn a blind eye, and open the mouth of madness

Rosicrucian morality,
To tell the truth I'd rather be
Hailing Set on ten in the land of Kem-Set

Truthfully
Somehow, this one got away from me...