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Set beneath the dead fall, Heads roll on sun drenched sands,
Open mouths a truth to power, Spew forth the hidden hand,
Each step upon the passage, Slide home their bolted doors,
Forestall engagement of this, Gaping silver sore.

He make you gone.

In hearts or homes, I will reside,
Be blood or stone, I will divide,

Awaken,
From the touch made divine,
The traitor,
Cleansed from the sky

Entered the art and hollowed, Poison now sustenance,
Mimic becomes colossus, Kings become hired hands,
Dull white noise leaves an acid taste, Addictive and imperfectly shaped,
Horse to lead or tie that binds, Nothing so pleasing as an ax to grind,

Like Sherman to the sea,
Burning to your door,
Wide eyed army of one,
With an angel’s tongue to pull you to the floor.

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