Hey man, fuck you, too
I have six in line to screw
That’s more than you do
I'm packing up my bags because it's time
to go. Thanks for the ride, I had a time.
Will we again cross paths? I cannot know.
Like shooting stars in the night sky we may.
Time has been here before, destined from the
start to see the end straight from the heart. We've
been at these roads before the winds breeze through
my hair tip my hat to stop the train and
straight out of the heart these words live. I tell
you to stay back and don't get hit by the
train blazing into the future like a
nomad into the sky burning a trail
in the hearts of many let us trade scars.
What was so long ago but this cannot
end. Our delusions revealed so clearly now.
The train's nearing, get off the tracks to live.
Written by the Author in the spiel of
time bound by the ink of His pen live all
you can, live all you can. Fade away, no.
Do not fade ever, please, the dust you're not.
The dust is not settled and a storm is
brewing, and the train is in need of some
renovation. You cannot come with on
into the distant horizon, please, no.
The twilight falls again and we meet the
end of this chapter.
The world was so wide, so great, and so real
you could reach right out and touch it. You could
feel rain, taste sweet, admire the greatness.
Perhaps all good things must fall into
forever inevitable, so
take one shot so the world gets a
bit smaller. Take one more as dreams
become the better half of
life. So small becomes the world.
Walls close in. The ends of
the Earth come into view.
sets in with brief gasps
in between. The songs
fade in and out
and the world gets
so small. Repeat
those words. One
last time. Just
Dance with me in the rain so we can
forget our pain for today and
we’ll let the deluge pay our tribute
to the dark forces that compell us
to mark our broken selves in the
dark of night or maybe just in a dim
secluded room hiding from the light
so no one can see our doom impending
before us by our own hands covered
in sins of lust after dark desires and
fruits of hellfire forged in a furnace of
pain and fear of a world’s evil that
shan’t wain and descending into
an abyss free from pain forevermore
These lines bleed, those words screed
Even looking inside blind, each line a bind
Engine of Destruction, Goddess of Corruption
Power with no handle, burning the brightest candle
Fading to a wraith, in need of a grain of faith
A complete smash-up, a thousandth mash-up
A thousand steps down, a completely soaked crown
Just disappear, please reappear
One thing led to another, find cover
Prayers for transduction, proclivity for induction
Five lessons learned, all too concerned
A wreck scene photo op, encountered a suspected cop
Contortion is a hobby, contusions in the lobby
No desire out, two ways about
Half-empty boxes, devilish foxes
Contrived synthesis, matters of (co)incidence
Complete deconstruction, mystical production
“Should X be legal?” misses a lot of the options in any discussion, and it hides the brutality of some of the options.
For instance, “Should pot be legal?” sounds like the sort of questions with sane answers on both sides. Maybe it doesn’t, but it seems like it could. “Should we send armed agents of the state to violently remove people from their homes to put them in cages for years if the people possess leaves that make you feel funny when smoked?” has an obvious answer. But “Should we fine people for circumventing the tax structure by acquiring goods from untaxed sources?” goes right back to the realm of reasonable questions. Between these cases, we see that adding this precision lets us see whether there’s even a sane debate to be had.