What It's Like To Cult

Sometimes it's easy to get sucked in,
When you think there is no reel.
Whether it's caloric restriction,
Or cotton textured pajama pants.
Sometimes it's so easy to get sucked in.

Just a few days ago there was an interview,
Of some guy I'd prefer to forget.
All that to say, overpopulation is not a thing,
That pollutes in and of itself.
Other causes are very much a thing.

I remember when I had to learn German,
Yet I much prefer to learn some French.
But I suppose Hafestra will do in a pinch.
To quench that salted wound.

It's something else when there is only blonds,
Preached at by deranged men,
That only him is visited by their kin.
Among other things, the homophobia is for the birds.
It's something else when there is only blonds,
That seem to feel as if it's right,

To genetically breed homosexuality,
Out of their chosen race, as if that were right.
And to top it all of, there is that toilet paper,
And all those telepathic training sessions,
And then you say goodnight.

Say what you want of some other breadtuber,
Even though he might retaliate,
It's just not quite the same,
As ancient star maps and sinister gifts.
That tell of Talmud Emmanuel.
Yet now here I am despite it all.

Because I have no gods or masters,
And I wont fall.