Cinder block sermons

[Intro] “He walks with no shadow. He don’t knock. He takes what’s owed. This is his word. This is his law. And we— We are the pigs he feeds.” [Verse 1] Found the book in a cinderblock shithole, Pages soaked in moonshine and bullet holes. Every word screamed b***d and flame, Said Burlap’s real—ain’t just a name. Preacher man twitchin’, covered in sores, Preachin’ through meth shakes, screamin’ from pores. “Feed the hogs! Burn the fakes!” Drank gas, lit match, never breaks. He carved the symbol in his own chest, Then told the camera, “This is a test.” Trailer burned down with him inside, But his voice still plays at night. [chorus] These are the cinderblock sermons, From the meth-mouth prophets of pain. They don’t sleep, they don’t breathe, They just wait in the propane rain. If you hear the call—don’t answer. If you see the sack—don’t run. He don’t k**l ‘cause he’s angry. He kills ‘cause it’s fun. [Verse 2] Trailer #3 got salt on the steps, They know the sack man don’t respect breath. Old lady sittin’ with a cross on her knee, Said, “He took my boy when he lied to me.” She heard the dogs go quiet at four, Then found skin nailed to the screen door. No prints, no b***d, no trail— Just a smell like burnt teeth and mail. Now she prays to a gas can altar, Says, “He’s God now—ain’t no one darker.” [Bridge] Burlap don’t talk. Burlap don’t sleep. He just watches, waits, and eats. Rope for a spine. Knives in his breath. Come to him cryin’—he’ll show you death. [chorus] These are the cinderblock sermons, From the meth-mouth prophets of pain. They don’t sleep, they don’t breathe, They just wait in the propane rain. If you hear the call—don’t answer. If you see the sack—don’t run. He don’t k**l ‘cause he’s angry. He kills ‘cause it’s fun. [Outro] “This ain’t no warning. This ain’t no dream. This is Burlap’s gospel— Written in screams.”