#24 Doing God’s work

Doing God’s work.

Generals resemble,

Throwing up signs and symbols.

See the uniqueness,

Speak your mind like telekinesis.

Source of your weakness.

Feel the reaper creep in,

When the degree spins.

JG when im by myself.

Prepare the ship to depart,

The storm is in the atmosphere,

Receiving a high transfer.

Your Sphinx.

Yield, the storm rider.

Beating up the paper is still my hobby.

Politicians in New York call me Mayor JG.

Fallen satalites,

Masonically intune.

Everything I thought of I saw it happen,

Then I rose from the soil and the sun darkend.

Colored in blood or colored in mud.

My heart wheeps.

Hopefully she didn’t take the mark of the beast.

My dreams are intense with very little sense,

Heart full of lust with smoke inhalation from the burning bush.

Sipping from a cup that runneth over.

Walk through the valley sober,

Bearing witness in a pit of cobras.

Judas the hitman for 30 pieces of silver.

The wicked son from the slums.

This is a act of nature.

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