| We’re standing in water
|
| Suppressed by manmade embankment.
|
| And you were just a channel
|
| Heading westward from my arms,
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| From my choleric heart,
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| From my calm yet desperate hands,
|
| Seeking to tear each limb from every second guess.
|
| With a choleric heart,
|
| Let the winds be shrill,
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| Let the water rise
|
| And take all that’s left of my own guile.
|
| We looked back towards the damage,
|
| And we were doomed to know the worst of it.
|
| By day, all our hopes, bare, swallowed whole
|
| In the brine.
|
| What of the stars, what of our kings,
|
| What of your selfish prayer for light?
|
| Nothing yields our Eastern skies-
|
| How could you let this happen?
|
| We breathe in darkness.
|
| And it seems while we were waiting prone,
|
| Famine had written fiend
|
| Upon all our brilliant, desolated, plight.
|
| Staring straight ahead into the unmovable.
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| Is it our pacing around the sun
|
| That made you fold your hands in grace?
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| Of but one thought we are now,
|
| Within silence.
|
| And the waves stood dead,
|
| Reflected not the sky.
|
| Everything is still, panoramic night.
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| I will share your grave,
|
| Atop the floodwater.
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| I will share your grave,
|
| With every throne consumed.
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| Words unnecessary,
|
| Screamed indifferently.
|
| Rings of foreign masses.
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| Dark mobility.
|
| These are the walls that shake when the Earth is silent.
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| To become passion. |