who said that the world is round? and who dare question,
my theories profound? profound they may not be...
but i do believe what i see. i believe that men are just mortals
playing to the chord, i believe that my being is just a shody task
of the crude god. believe the same I,
that your fragments stem from my nihilistic eye.
where my mother doom stretches her arms
towards cribbing hope lying in a trance,
is it that child who you think
would redeem your sins before you sink?
that child is mine; out of sins born a swine,
so rest not your desires on him,
for his life is eternally grim! i have seen lemmings
dying in herds, drowning in the water's bountiful curse,
men are but like flocks who die, clutching a cross forever defied.
troubles are but tests they say, to harden your faith on the gods of pray(prey).
then when does the hand rest your soul, and lift you to heavens as says the scroll?
sufferings are but numbers alone, jotted down by a sceptre or a throne,
and when the court needs another bard,sums are finished
after calculations hard. stood there I naked in shame,
to entertain Elysium with fables of our pain. sat there the deities
clutching their faith, savouring my blood as if unfed.
gluttony is a sin or so they say, then why do i see the seven sins there?
its just us who Do exist, braving stony gods walking in the mist.
blurred they look walking in a queue, searching for a prey
which nothing can do, but only feed a fetishist faith,
dying to live and fallen from grace.
©
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