The Shrike, alone in his perch,
does feel the heat of the sun
and at dawn he sleeps
while the world looks on

Your harsh words may hurt but it won't hurt me as much as your silence!!!

What vile monstrosity that I see
Looking back at me.

going down this long lost road
traveling under the waning moon
thinking upon memories of old
I feel my impending doom
we are pilgrims in the age of fire
we are gods.. truth we aspire
voyaging deserted corridors
painted in cast iron blood
a great spectacle of gore
like nothing you could think of
elaborate scheme between hunter and pray
scrambling the mind and left in disarray

A forrest in my eyes
Soaking in the bathtub with
My hands clasped between
My thighs
Caring little to care a lot about
All those faces I forgot
This is me
In my moment
Believing that time stood still
Once
It caressed my cheeks and danced
When I sang
It made love to my brain
And I think of this orange train
Called Union Pacific
Such a nice name
Such a nice name

I never wanted to be me;
My skin, it kills,
and my glare cuts deep.

I never wanted to reap,
whether to oblivion or divinity.

all I've ever wanted was to be free,
to make my own path; to be just me.

But life has ****** me to see cruelty feed,
to strip me of mourn, to strip me of fear.

So I pray and hope when end is near,
my fate as death will disappear.