Rock Hard City
Imaginary dreamsAbout the silence of deathIs a celebrated themeAnd a whisper from God’s breath.
Imaginary dreamsAbout the silence of deathIs a celebrated themeAnd a whisper from God’s breath.
Could the skies turn blackCould the rain be redCould a sadness comeCould we become Undead.
NonsenseShe saidWhile driving a nailInto my head. Your deceptions are clearYour motives are fearTo me, And foreverYour dead.
A stuttering silenceAnd a staggering delayMeans our entrance was disguisedAs an insta glorious Foray. A swaggering slinkDown a slippery wayMeans our exit has turned Into an insta infamousParade.
Find yourself Out of mind.Silence the doubtScream it and shoutAnd consider each momentA find.
Deliver yourselffrom the mysteries of lifeby listening to the chosenreality that’s right. Deliver your thoughtsfrom a silence so strongthat the mysteries of whymean it surely was wrong.
Answering a questionrequested by the massesonly insurespolitical molasses.
Feel thy soulDon’t wash your mindMerge the wholeAnd forsake not what you findUnkind.
troubling mumblesa not so subtleverbal tariffwhere the spoken soullies, in rubble.
I am a walking infection,a viral attack onanything I meet. I am painful,a wincing sorethat touches your very essence. I am a foul stink that erupts from each pore,of my being.