Overflowing ash trays and bottles broken
A septic dream for which there is no alarm clock
The days keep on dragging.
Work boots withered
Browbeaten under the weight
Of which 'it' remains unidentified
The dull throb of 'it's' pulse
Senses numbed and the shrill sounds of solitude
Bask in the throes of regret
Dwelling on every failure
Insignificance nigh
Under the flag
Under a white flag
Debts paid in blood and a sub prime mortgage
The bottom falling out
The truth of it all
Evasive and shrewd
Blinded by fear and a skull made of wax
Warping from the heat
Too close to the flame and the statues are burning
Too precious was the knowledge
The seething rage overwhelms
Lashing out at the walls
Punching holes in the sky
Framed in 'it's' hate
Fucking love's lifeless corpse
Necrophilia for a dead and hopeless mind
A locust choir and it's shrill cacophony
A symphony of bones and hollowed skin
Dancing with the cadavers
The sunrise came too soon
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