Tattered Epilogue

I will never split the bill, but will split my personality.

A true gentlemen still, until I decide to flip my morality.

Influence resides in a chill, as the iceberg tip of causality.

Is your handicap a drink or a pill, we loosen the grip of reality.

I will dox you for the thrill, I'm talking street, city, and zip for totality.

This is far from a drill, The Walking Dead made you hip to my nationality.

Ground every flight at will, ATC discovered my Halloween drip was gravity.

If not for the love, do it for the kill, this text is a poetic trip into savagery.

Quell the rumor mill, gossip has enough mass in which to dip human anatomy.

Skip a psychiatric bill, mental health takes a bite out of wages and a nip from salary.

The angel Jabril, can not be overtaken by the charm of wit or flattery.

A calling to fulfill, like the ducks that sit in a shooting gallery.

It's Hamburger Hill, there needs to be a coalition that care more than a bit naturally.

If you enjoy your pickles dill, the sourness of the moment is more than taste actually.

Media sensitivity is nil, but at this point they have to report things factually.

No more Jack and Jill, Jack found God and Jill found a daiquiri

What's one more social ill, break a few eggs to make an omelet, but we bombed that hatchery.

My critics are shrill, but I have no defense when I make holy war with all the sins still attached to me.

So let the milk spill, for any who wish to make amends, just know that I closed down that factory.