My name is Ahab:
king of all of Judea,
king of all I can be,
king of all there is but me.
There’s girls from forgien lands
who speak languages I can’t understand
and worship gods of which I abhor,
but my heart is sore.
I want them more than silver or gold
platings for the temples’ vanity,
or brass for the horns to sing my praise,
or iron to beat into swords.
A touch from a princess of Phoenicia
is my life’s ambition.
Who truly cares about me?
The King of Judea.
For her I’ll do anything.
I’ll erect her a shrine
to the gods I despise
and use all of Israel as my sacrifice
The god that will give us rain,
and favor against our enemies.
To my wives I bend my will and every thought
to gain a single kiss
upon my lips
that defile my God.
In my hour of need
who shall I call upon?
My wives of course;
for they are much wiser than prophet or God
and they love me.
Do they not?
I have used the prophets as a sacrifice
to their womb,
Those temples in which I worship my true God,
Not Baal or Elohim,
But to my own lust and weakness.
I bought her feet pics with the blood of Israel
And she still talks to other guys.