Guessing where the coins would fall, they carried on for hours with a compass and a set of keys- backpacks packed and floating
just above their pretty heads. Poised to dive and immolate ten thousand years of moistened lips, for one less kiss they're willing to let
all the angels lay claim to their territory and sleep with their lights on for personality. They stumble through darkness while reaching
for fleeting moments: "The Glory shall be yours and you all shall be as God..."
Don't let the songs fall without a word. Impending
nova, I'll watch you all burn.
Running from a heart of clay, they ate with severed limbs and gambled well into the previous day,
risking wings from angels that they couldn't afford to repay in word, or deed, or selfish thought. If seraphim are pulling strings they'll
find their wings and become one King for a lifetime, and Kong for one fleeting moment, to find that the journey was less than work for us.
They'll refine their relics and offer the sweetest up to me, asking one more time: "Don't you want to laugh like God?"
Don't let the
songs fall without a word. Impending nova, I'll watch you all burn.
"Lady bright eyed, guide me through this tumultuous sea with much
wine. Why the gods in all their immortality wish that I die? But I won't die."
When a word is spoken by the lonely, then a gift is said
to the receptive. Though weary eyed they still return the warmth and smile. Not in need of further gestures, they're singing songs of
celebration. Place your heads inside the halo's ring and grasp this understatement.
Let all the angels reclaim their territory and
sleep with their lights on, lest any footsteps feel darkness in orphan bondages, muting their fanfares. Return to waveforms and trust in
our common heritage. We could become God. Our trust in this fiction creates faith in our appendages. Don't let the songs fall in
flames.
"Hell, Hell well are you now?"
"I am here."
"In a daydream I died. I was Jekyl. You were Hyde. In you I seek ally. Enemy.
Hell, Hell where are you now?"
"I am here."
