I’m the millionare pope
eater of souls
baptiser of dopes
Frankly, I’m told,
my mouth doesn’t move
and my harem grows cold
They’re hung in a groove
and they’ve sung of my eyes
through my cloven hooves
I’m growing through tries
and making dog food
from my favorite woman’s thighs
The Supermale (pt. 2, rough, “Perfect Human Cycle”)
The Perfect Heidnik (pt. 1, rough, “Perfect Human Cycle”)
Gary Heidnik sits alone on a barstool
No ladies are attracted to Gary Heidnik;
he is a murderer of women
See Gary Heidnik as he moves
between two worlds
See Gary Heidnik as he moves
in a room without boundaries
Gary Heidnik is the master of tools
His deft hand crafts sharp angles
and beautiful arcs
He is a worker in metal and stone
All the [...]
If I Don’t Get Out Now, I Might Suffocate
He sits surrounded by cats in a playground
they come out from everywhere in this neighborhood
he can’t get rid of them, they follow him everywhere
they walk down the street in groups when they hear his step
his scent blown by some faroff wind,
they track him by night
he has trouble sleeping these days
they sit outside
his window and cry, [...]
