Come get your wife she’s dabbling in capitalist corporations
VIENNA NO DONT BE A CAPITALIST

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Come get your wife she’s dabbling in capitalist corporations
VIENNA NO DONT BE A CAPITALIST
#JustCallMeEra #ConfessionBooth #EbonGaijin #Lyricist #AllOfMe #AboveAll (at New Orleans, Louisiana) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bz9UxUrFdUa/?igshid=sgpubnjj4x88
#confessionbooth #catholicchurch (at The Oratory of S Philip Neri in London (Brompton Oratory))
Confession Booth(four)
You know what's funny? I bury myself in lies, It's like my own disguise. I've learned from the best and some times I can't wait til you die! Is it bad I won't have sympathy? Is it clichè I'd say God will be the judge of me? Because the prison you put me in has taken my life! The words you say cut me like a knife. I barely had friends growing up. They made fun of me because I wasn't fast enough. I grew hate in my heart! I fell back from the start! It was more important to impress some bully. Than to sit at my desk and study! I filled the room with lies, They'll be in my head til the day that I die.
Confession booth (two)
I wonder if all the girls miss my like the devil misses me. I wonder if my bank account misses being empty! Back when I’d drink til I passed out, Show up at my exes house, Sit there and get cussed out! But now that I left her house, I’m finally chillen in Gods house! I’m breaking bread with people I thought would never accept me. The only thing is they’ve been expecting me! I’m chilling with a girl I thought would never like me, But we’re both into the same things! Now I’m moving from the bottle to the wet kisses. Thinking man I missed this. Bringing God back to my house! Even if there’s nights I still drink til I pass out. I’m getting better.
Intro-confession booth
I’m Looking at life, I’m just twenty-two. All I do is write, It’s like when I step into that confession booth. The priest, he asks why? Why do I have these issue? Because the Devils not playing around, These games are like tissue! They wipe my blood up, But don’t keep me from bleeding out. I look at my father, His not a dad. I look at my mother, She’s not just a mom. She’s the doctor and lawyer for our issues. I wonder to God how can this be? Am I not perfect enough for me? I relapsed, yea once again. The bottle just counts up my sins. The gin and whiskey, Can’t you hear I miss me? Can’t you see my eyes all misty! I’m just twenty-two but I have a lifeline of history.
Pictures of the confession booth I built for Fermentation Fest in an old apple orchard in North Freedom, WI. I heard around 140 confessions and in return I did their portrait. They couldn't see me, and I couldn't speak.
'Artist/hidden' side of the booth