J.C. on a fucked up bicycle.

All I know is
it must have been
Jesus Christ
on a fucked up bicycle.

His peddling of heavy strokes
brought me an arctic dragon
with a raven in its eye.

His silver scales
would flash before me
while his serpent tongue
would twist in midair
like a blizzard
burying me in blankets
of drifting dreams
and a wonderland of glorious living.

Sin after sin
was etched into my flesh
with melting icicles.

All I know is
it must have been
Jesus Christ
on a fucked up bicycle.