The strangest fruits have the sweetest flavors. That remind you of mead, that honey wine, drink of the gods. You can’t survive off of milk and honey alone. That’s what they promised you. You’re progeny will out number the stars, grains of sand. But since when have you enjoyed quantity over quality? I ate the apple before the serpent knew what life was. I have seen your god as a babe. He was made from insecurity and restlessness. I will remind you of the old days, of the proper times. When milk was from a goddess and honey from Yggdrasil. When women were revered. When peace was not an after life but a process of life. Your god, has given me anxiety. You praise him on knees, frightened of service, and threatened for resurrection. This god, gives me anxiety. You think he created the world, you gained him in slavery. You gained him in slavery. This god, he give me anxiety. Cause he ain’t never done shit right by the cosmos.