In high fidelity I hear
A ravaged man
Screaming at the world
He talks of razors and
Deception.
And still finds time for
Clairvoyant discussion.
His symphony, an army.
A sentry for any circumstance.
Be it fighting relentless demons
Or his own rogue hands.
He is the ruler of dreams
No other man can.
I listen closely
To miss nothing.
A whisper, too far
I NEED more!
Though
I crave more than deserved
Even then, it’s never enough.
Longing to live these tragedies
For my sorrow would finally be
Relevant.
Awaiting your next call to arms
Years in the making.
Touring roadie cars
Medication ritual to keep Your
Body an individual
To prevent the demon from
Unleashing a new heathen
Relapse, collapse
The story of your life.
I pray for your body
To repent the sickness
To return your health.
But I pray far too much
I’ve not control over
God’s unholy rule
That man must live or die
With the ebb of lunar tides
Wash away the unsuspecting
Lulling the silver spooned
He displays prejudice
For all who speak against his
Ancient ruse.
The Way it Goes 