The Van Pelt
Image of Health
You are the Image of Health
You are the Master of Yourself

The Image of Health has a boot on his back
As his agony engages he counter attacks
The Image of Health is tanning his hide
With an anthology of Frank O'Hara and a corrosion inside
The Image of Health plays music like a primal scream
He can revisit any artistic trope with the fury of a teen
The Image of Health can be difficult to be around
Cause he's got no time for pleasantries whose wastefulness confounds

Thе Image of Health radiates air
Hе eats like a pig, taking it all in
The Image of Health thinks Faith sounds like Fate
So he's traded it out for a controlled dose of hate

The Image of Health is whatever the ailment isn't
He takes an inventory daily and sees that most of him is living
The Image of Health is what the ailment is:
An intricate conversation where the killer is also him

And you never felt more alive
Than when the priest came to read your rites