blue smoke hills and grey
glass skies on the day i was waiting
to be buried next to my father, but the
fucker wasn’t ready to die yet
was the season of dreamlike resonance in
the age of silent monsters
was a lifetime of burnt and splintered
memories until the future was
nothing but bone and ash
a lot of blood spilled for a
lot of gods that never really existed
can’t make the punchline
any more obvious
can’t help but laugh at the illusion
we’ve been sold of power resting in
the hands of the wise and the just
give a man the power to kill and he
will only
make you his enemy in the end
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