Against our suffering primitive skin 2001-12-21
Down to my last six cigs While the malevolent moon winks With a grin that could kill All passion My dreams have been cold Almost dead Shades of what dreams should be And in my waking hours My heart sings dirges For the lost soldiers Who hide behind thier Genetic tanks of stone And the Ancient Masters Call with a sickening screech To tell me that my heart Has finally stopped wandering They think it finally found A place where it can die In peace But the cynical brain That conceals itself Beneath my all-devouring eyes Keeps pulling it out From its chosen bed Asking it to proform tasks That would make Peracles cry From the strain And makes even the Immortal Gilgamesh quake with fear The blood of a thousand Lambs Will wash over me And still I cannot stay this tide For only when my mind Heart And Will Are joined in a harmony That resonates through All creations of man or god Can I overcome this deadly enemy For it is by the force Of fear alone That this axe may Take my head ~Matt Magus (from a remote location....getting damn well plastered)
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