Probably just a coincidence

In this Cave lies a dark, disturbed, demented sell-out

the result of a sale, of the soul, a fly-blown husk

to one whom he wishes does not exist, yet weakly bows down to

Sacrifices made, knelt on the pew

scrawled out the ledger, lazyboys rolled

We may be led to believe it’s art

but an expensive suit fools no-one

A turd dipped in glitter

is still a piece of shit