I am not a prophet or a teacher

I am a failure of God

Standing in a circle of my brothers

Their fangs out

Every thing I had I gave to you

Every time I tried I would lose

It's hard not to shake with a gun in your mouth

Every time

I try I hear my mother's voice

And see my mother's eyes

But when hers close

I'm scared so will mine

You are no brothers

Filing out the church of

Cain

Like a thousand foot pious snake

Hiding its sins deep in its stomach

Digesting them one at a time

And your voice is a sounding trumpet

Announcing the mountains that you've moved