Wicked fat cats, nipped in the butt, tell it old energy style, tell it blossoming with, "poor me... liars hate me, because they're jealous of my success." Peeling back the petals, exposes the truth. Each flower is a fake. Lies upon lies, clear as the dew on a lily.
Trucking in troubled teens hits bottom like elephants hitting the prairie, revealing layer upon layer of old energy dust. Fat cats preying on mothers and their young, hits a low of all lows. It's a fending for the vulnerable scam, woven into a package of trust.
Running away from responsibility, forces Christ to take action. Christ's flowers tear down these scammers, like a sundew and a cobra lily. The end is slow and painful, as the flowers' digestive juices heat up and burn.
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