lift the head again
unto the pale and distant sun
it is not real again
it's just we people who are numb
these shadows move the world
since so long before today
colours in our eyes that swirl
beget naught but soul decay
everything wanes
everyone disdains
one tries to wipe away the stain
but everything remains
the same
the corridors of wealth described
the social strata succubi
the sedatives are ill prescribed
to those who have no alibi
a generation then makes haste
the feast, the fête, the foul
as reverence remains ill-placed
spirit reaches for a skinny towel
to wipe clean that which adorns us here
disease, malaise, and waywardness
perspective now but fleeting clear
love, believe in blamelessness
just as everything wanes
everyone disdains
try to wipe away the stain
but everything remains
the same
the shadow courts are again in session
scour the scrolls in candle light
forgive us please the next concession
not at the cost of all our sick delight
belief we held is now long since forgotten
weights once placed on heads and states
now everything that's reaped is ill-begotten
sown and then left swinging at the gates
hung in bags, and skins, and buckets dry
leave it to the earth to weigh
beneath eternal crimson fretful skies
whether or not we should
remain
No comments:
Post a Comment