Above the cover of hud
where lay rugly a rug.
Wonder a sun from above.
Creep to the steep of the bed.
Crouched, then touched my head.
Light up the night gone
as said.
Down to be sound at my feet
into the folds it did creep,
powerful yet so mightily meek.
Touch the sun, ounce its ton.
Given time and rhythm rhyme.
Always. always, spinning around.
Falling, falling, spilling on down.

Talking About People
We are a breed of
destruction, destruction is our aim.
See how we crave on
corruption, and fancy good and evil as the same.
We hide in the midst of
semi-parents, and cry on the shoulder of pain.
As we burn each other as
we do to serpents, we debate each man
is the same.
And walls around us we
can create, yet the enemy conquers.
And all that time for
education's sake, all of it falls to ulcers.
Understand we are born to
die, God will not rid of us.
We are here to kill and
hide. And to forget justic is just.
No, Heaven will not
bother with us, Her hands She will not soil.
She'll sit as we kill
Earth's crust, and watch this miserable place boil.

Towns and Their People
Townspeople cry when
townspeople die. Townspeople feel alone
when they lose a human
tie. Townspeople congregate and mourn
the death which silently
reminds them that they too will die.
No wonder townspeople cry
when townspeople die.
Townspeople's rules are
followed not by newcoming fools.
Townspeople can chase
passerbys using laws as their tools.
Townspeople live by their
own morals made in offices,
streets and schools.
No wonder townspeople's
rules are followed by all sorts of fools.
Townspeople's minds
haven't stopped since the beginning of time.
Townspeople are confused,
threatening, and seldom glance behind.
Townspeople only feel
fine on drugs or town'e made wine.
Little analysis that
Townspeople's minds have strongly
entered our time. |