| A mirthsome gold; |
| these lives you hold you’ll hide away
|
| The lidless casket, the guilded lining
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| Shines in the old light, gleams in the muted bay
|
| These lines have been etched in bone, carved and faded, stretched as taut as
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| stone. |
| Draped across the moonlit base, a mirrorbed reflects the faces bright in
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| the moment
|
| Wide and awake with fright
|
| Seared by the scorchlight, lives are worth we’ll trade
|
| We couldn’t cower too quickly. |
| We couldn’t bear to brave the gaze of the end
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| And when the creep of flames engulf the all, you’ll swallow them whole
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| You’ll intake this bile, and you’ll reap what I’ve soiled, what you’ve sown
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| So have the stilted grown
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| Bury me in all the filth and shame, and all the moments filled with them
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| It’s all the same. |
| I’ll give it away
|
| I’ll taint my flesh and you’ve naught but hell to taste
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| Tear it away. |
| The rot is palpable. |
| The waft escapes
|
| The bread we broke sustaining you. |
| The blood, you choked, the draining flu
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| No sign that anyone knew. |
| Gods you hunger, so tear us wide and eat your fill
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| You look so tired. |
| I couldn’t save for you some raw meat
|
| Your limbs are wires, but all I have for you is thawed
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| You’ll get your means. |
| You’ve earned these seeds
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| Now when you salivate you’ll bleed
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| Drawn to the stench of plebes who dulled their sheen to match a hope we
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| couldn’t feel
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| This is all we are: a listless gold, the lifeless old, frail in the moment
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| Scared as the eyes reveal their sheen. |
| Be careful what you hold
|
| The flesh has turned, your wretch was earned
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| Bright in the moment, wide and awake with fright
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| Seared by the scorchlight, our lives are worth we trade |