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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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