Angel Engine

He would dig somewhere in a flat field in a large grove of oranges  and come up the torn up information   as civil suits   as tender warnings   against    his   truth,  barbiturates, crispy cucumbers on a bed of heirlooms     soon   rape becomes someone's fairy tale   or   maybe we covet terror   well

Bill Cosby is a myth too    
A double cross
A double nigga
This suits us