Lest You Let Your Head Rise Up

Heaven ain’t full, but there’s too many heads for the bodies and (fuck me) they left the gate open one night with a big pile of swords and chainsaws and machetes and cleavers and laser sabers and fire axes just sitting there with a note by the bell, proclaiming:

Heads for Hell. Take ’em as you find ’em.

But you couldn’t tell (not even Johnny the CIA man couldn’t) whether it was St. Peter or damned, dirty Judas what wrote the words and there’s no one around with a head anymore to let us know how many they meant for us to take.

Well, no one came out to stop us so we just kept chucking ’em down the shoot and now we got blessed, grinning skulls to wear as shoes when the ground gets too hot and face skin to cover the oozing sores that cover many a wall down there. It ain’t pretty, no, but its a nice change I suppose.

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