We're all the trash of human collections The "not quiet good enough" Garbage Biding our hopes on eachother together. Hold each other up Like a refuse heap While all the vultures look down from their "heaven" on us. Then the flies rise above like smoke, like whirlwind to eat out their substance and remind the vultures they're just meat, with wings after all. not so much a god between em. I ate your golden gods and shat them out. They didn't taste holy to me.