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

to Baal,

 

The god that will give us rain,

comfort,

pleasure,

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.