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Dead Earth Politics
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Artistic License
So it flies - the life that pumps your venom
is painting these scars
Knuckles brushing the mixes
into this magniloquent masterpiece
Inside this fist -
You're powerless and drowning in regret
Inside this fist -
is an artist waiting to be born
How many ways can I break you?
You haven't got the digits to count anymore
How many tears can wash your manhood away?
No more prayers...
Streaks of misinterpreted splendor
paint your smile... forming an abscessed grimace
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Disillusioned revelry
inspires the loathing from millions
of others lost
Now the rays that shot
from your soul-window...
danced like the sun but slumber now, fading like the moon
Inside this fist -
You're powerless and drowning in regret
Inside this fist -
is an artist waiting to be born
How many ways can I break you?
You haven't got the digits to count anymore
How many tears can wash your manhood away?
No more prayers... by now your knees must be broken.
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