Hyper-infantilation

 When people play the drum on the streets shouting "Shame, Shame, Shame!" or "Blessed are thee, who shall dine in Heaven with God!" Why are you saying thus? Then the blood of your neighbours is wailing up to the Heavens, because you made him toil; for your white house with Crimson window drapings! Virtue signalling, how you shall accept no more slaves, but minimum wages; owners, or Independent contractors...

What's the difference in front of the Lord. You changed the name, but omitted wooden yokes, into adamantium yokes and the copper taxes into Goldpressed Platinum credits. Can you bless thy lord while your hand lures your sister into your house to be raped, because you're sick of Love, as did the Son of David, so another son of David could smite thee and fuck his fathers concubines on the rooftops, to be hanged by the curley hairs and die stabbed. 

Don't call upon the name of the Lord or the day of the Lord or the table of the Lord, if your suit is

not tied and presentable in his manor  Why should you be hanged above your house door out of thy window, for such mayor disrespect? Don't play Heaven, like a child, then you wanna be treated like an adult, who holds the true wage of his words. Or are you all women, who's words only account, if their Aster or Husband, hasn't disavowed it before dusk emerges victorious. 

When the values become worthless in thy heart, and everything becomes holy or political, how does the money hold his cloths clean, or the merchant not become a war-brigand, who makes barrel runs between borders, to gain profit from all the parties, until caught and hanged by the neck... All the wise men are infants and experts are like teenage  girls unmarried. Because they don't fear God, and don't account no higher power, they think their deeds shall remain classified and none shall know their ops. But even the expert drinker gets under the table, with but one sip, once the limit has been broken. 

Only praise the Lord in the public, if you are his bitch or his maid of honour or without any blemish, and thy Lord wont snap at you, for speaking out of terms, for the True servant of the Lord only speaks then the hen takes a piss, or then the Lord gives priority. Why are those freelancers praising that lord, if they claim no fealty to that Lord? Dost they think his Honour nothing or are they all Court Jesters?! 

Hyperinfantilation of wokeness begets hyperinflation of legal tender. How could you possibly keep the currency locked and loaded, if nothing is sacrosanct and untouchable for the Lords and Ladies, who fiest from the cups and plates of Yahweh praising the Sound of Silence for the Neon Gods of Nothingness,  while the writing is already on the wall!!