Ah, I may be a retard but let's not proceed hard with bars before I can decipher the topic of your cypher, this thread is easy to replace: like winshield wipers. Your poetic reflection of life, shows you're not out to bullshit about the knife or unrealized ghetto strife! It's good to see your contrived identity is slightly more fresh to me than all the threats of death I see, daily. And commandments of "pay me". They're lazy.

I'm forelorn, you've warned of the lord and his coming, but have you absorbed the message on paper torn, dunny?
Lines are drawn, and the time is dawn for scorched earth to implore the rebirth of the forgotten one. Not the chosen son.
48 hours and time's done? Commandments to run with all of his sons, burn no oil drum? Iraqi casualties means wars won? I award none, forced mayhem never rolled off the Lord's tounge. Flames flung to gain a sum and regulate where some of our oil comes from.

I'm done. And dumb! Fun.
Fin.