I watched Surreal suck cobwebs from my eyes
That bitch knew how to blend the disks of time
He painted worms like carnal squishy thighs
And only cared for things that wouldn’t rhyme
Like god-below-confusion camping out
Where sultriness enjoys a drink or two
I’ve seen Surreal behave like Holy Doubt
He knows what Holy Doubt can often do
My God, My God is this what Dreamers feel
I Am My God, I Am The Fucking Word
Confusion leads to everything Surreal
True visions run the risk they might be blurred
So blurred in blood the veins of time congeal
As cobwebs dance with God who is Surreal.