“If we restore the button to it’s natural habitat, will you forgive me Padre?
I’ve stopped making the same mistakes as I did in the past,
I’ve stopped resorting to my last name for a chance at returning my Saturn radio fix to the blast door.
I’ve come back for you,
I’ve never left a man behind,
I may have broken a few rules a few times,
but you should know by now I’m the exception.
I look like a veteran but now without my name,
I look like your cousin,
your primo choice cut,
your special friend from another time when Don Julio met with an American man who did not know enough about how to reset your brain.
When we found God at the bottom of an electronic microscope,
and this neutral status on the war on drugs fought for freedom on the other side of the river.
I wish to make amendments to the soil,
not add more oil to the dirt you have on me.
I wish to bear no arms and stop bringing my guns to town,
I wish to stop publishing anything that is irrelevant to the current state of being,
so I trade my time for law and order within b this matrix of energy.
I have only been prepared well enough for this career.
I am an entrepreneur,
and entheogenic preist,
ordained by the milky way,
under the Mars bar,
on the wire,
down to the fiber,
insulated all these deep cuts so that we don’t bleed into the blessed moment.
I’m not letting any more hair shed into the toolbox,
I’m not going to cough up enough change on this cat,
we’re not going to the puppy bowl with the channel here,
we’re not all animals,
but you can still call me Canis,
as they still call me Sikh for using all hook, no lines, no sinkers,
I’m not fishing for a meal,
I’m reconnecting nature to nurture in the winter while the bears hibernate.
I’ll call it good here before you get me in trouble again for buzzing the bees in the hive. “- Patrick Michael, a transmission delivered from the communications engine for the spirit, tauriantorus.com