Monarchs

Cosmic intuition
Kick em to the curb
Escape corporal punishment
The Bastards never learn
Brewing up a storm
In a metaphoric coffee pot
Smoking Pot with Jesus
In a Catholic School parking lot
Embryonic insects swarming
Invading your fortress of solitude
Now youre crying out for Jesus
In a dirty dumpster behind Whole Foods
Bird calls cry in their native tongues
They formulate their remedies
To spite an unjust bourgeoisie
Their vomit and puke is their currency
Monarchs built their kingdoms on the human sphincters
Shitting Irish Cream into Southern Comfort
And every human mouth shall rеjoice and sing
Rejoicing to the solеmn pop melodies you consume