The Happy Victim's Creed

Clot-brained cogwheel in the sheets
Turns and sweats and makes his lists
Drug-dream-wracked reprobate creeps
Towards the daylight’s tasks in heaps
Pearl-zenithed walking zit
Makes his home where he can fit
Shops around for flavored swill
Earns new ulcers with that shit
What oils lubricate his lust?
What libels lurk in songs he loves?
What lord commodifies his trust?
He don’t know much but he knows this
You take your cut where you can find it
Drinksop spirit drowns the past
He just wanted to do his best
But trying only wore him thin
Fuck off, you didn’t live through any of this
Prideful inmate sworn to stress
Bares his teeth at disrespect
Freedom’s a real pretty word
Take the options you can get
He chants the happy victim’s creed:
Let distraction succor me
And polish all my edges down
‘Til I am smooth and blank as stone
To better fill my given role
Make me what I am
Make me the servant I was born to be
Make me what I am
Make me the servant I was born to be
Make me what I am
Make me the servant I was born to be
Make me what I am
Make me the servant I was born to be
Make me what I am
Make me the servant I was born to be
Make me what I am
Make me the servant I was born to be
Make me what I am
Make me the servant I was born to be
Make me what I am
Make me the servant I was born to be