Hot to chill

Calm to thrill,

Rage to despair

I don’t even care.

You can throw your mood up and down

You can rent a loft in town,

You won’t beguile

With either tears or smile.

You can use all your wit

You can throw a fit,

Reloading your charm

Like it’s a firearm.

You want between skin and rib

You cancer so glib,

You’re very scent presaging

The war that you’re waging.

I don’t care what you want

Nor how you may haunt,

I’ll leave no quarter

You miser you thwarter.

– Vagabond Prophet