Teacher took my mother to watch me on the playground
I had a habit of climbing up a trash mound
stripping for a crowd of rowdy adolescents
in a parody of puberty and human evanescence

(Good wyrd)
That’s wyrd
What am I feeling?
Wyrd Good wyrd

I damn near died at the moment of conception
my-my-my daddy couldn’t keep his erection
but you’d never guess it to see me today
because I stand up straight like a typical gay

With flock of baby birds that are stuck in my mouth
I wanna gag and gag till they come fluttering out
I’m living with lock jaw and egg-shell cheeks
I keep dreading the day that they discover their beaks


Gimme your wyrd, gimme your good wyrd
Gimme your fear, gimme your good fear
Gimme your tears, gimme your good tears

How to bake space: Pay attention to the batter!
Fluff it up good, whip it fatter and fatter
One part dust, detonated and scattered
and ninety-nine plus of a dark matter

But you shutter at the thought of a cook or a kitchen
ever since you were six you could smell the religions
boiling all the love into poisonous glue recruiting
the kids like cannibals do




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Davis’s music subtly sneaks religious dialogue into popular culture. Most surprisingly, the music is damn good. (Critics, you can sigh with relief.)

-Miami New Times