Seven knights ride out to planes
Out of castles made of blades
They ride out at dawn in sunlight
From the towerbearing walls
From the corners midst the mountains
To the sleeping town of old
Their spears ****** the skyroof
Their flags, they clap like thunder
Their swords strike at their hips
Their steeds rip air asunder
One is playing the guitar
Like a brook he's spilling sounds
One's a boy that's dressed a shepard
Shepard's staff's his fragile weapon
Chosen cautiously to suit
His humble role - to play a flute
One bears trumpets full of noise
Each as heavy as a rock
Though he carries all of those
On his narrow skinny back
One is striking at his chest
With both hands to prove the others
That of them he fits the bets
For the role of battle drummy
One of them is singing bare:
"Nothing holy heard a prayer"
Other wields a violin
Disharmonic chords cross strings
And the tension and the fever
The discord, the primal fear -
His inhuman melody
Spreads around and makes birds flee
From the rare darkbarked trees
One is riding solemnly
When they meet before the town
When they reach the sleeping town
Then they'll wake the sleeping town
Then they'll show the sleeping town
That before it lies a desert
That has eyes that you can never
Count. "Can you keep sleeping now?"
Silent Knight will ask the town.

I think you still got lightning in you
Since the storm of the black beacon sound
Punishing winds can be heared in your breaths
And you surely still have a flooded heart
High tides rise in you
The salt spray of waves
Goes over your eyelids
There's much to rebuild
But the harvest of your soil
I believe shall be abundant

Does it help that life is music if you happen to be a drum?

I breathe in
From the demon lung
And it's crumbling
With mechanical clanking sound

Air like fire
Filled with sulphur and copper
Dances on my tongue

A plastic and metal cat is purring
A giant one
I can feel vibrations entering my skull

And the heat surrounds me
Sticky, hazy, dull

Did you know the rain is blind?
How else can it be
As it stumbles so rudly
At all those of our poor kind?

Bury me in smoke,
My cold corpse in fire.
Veil of falling snow
Cloaks my star expired.

The dead have no wings,
Chained to the earth.
Rife spiked bushes sting
Them leaving firths.

Dimmed light, dirt and walls of pain,
Long nights, mud and pouring rain.
He's buried in his thoughts
Wandering about among the towers
That rise from the mist.
Fingers entwine in his worried hair.
The seasons change as he crosses the street.
For now the traffic is but a crimson caravan.
Passerbies have neon heat disease,
Elephant talk goes over his ears.
He whispers to himself:
"Death is a birthright,
A torch burns
Not to keep the shadows at bay
But because it was lit.
Seeds and honey, milk and blood,
Let all the old words cease to rhyme.
By some reason cemetery gates
Are almost always only halfway closed.
My suspection device is active now."
He carries a boxful of sunset on a strap.

The mirror spits his image,
The glass is spilled
Like sparkling dew.
Human body parts fallout.
He's just a picture in my book.

And than mother brought brother
So I would clean his cut and soothe the pain.
His hand was frightened.
She said while leaving the room:
"Look, don't touch;
Cry, don't tell."
"She's partially right" I said.
"The bones in the ceiling can hear you,
They resonate with your cries.
So hush all lush
And maybe cut the cult out of culture
Maybe, again, using puncture
<During the last two lines my brother laughed loudly>
To become a lightning bridge" I finished.

He: "Will you show me your Rocket Book?"
I: "I can't show it to you today
But I can read the last note:
<I wink>
"It's a glass forest,
And she've cried my eye out.
Strange woman."
Sorry that's all.
All else is either miskatonic or methademic.
Or drowned in a bayou.
<I wink again,
He winces>
But you know,
Thunder roars not asking why
So don't let the envy of void
**** in your cruel joy.
The pity and the baffled
Suppress and fear savage savants.
Make your way
Right through the shards of glass
And their cracking will sing for you."
He: "But each one of them calls like:
"Name all the aimless thoughts in my head,
Number the countless stars in the sky,
Call my sole shadow for a dance,
Strip me of my armor and disguise."
I: "That's not more valuable
Than a **** if you want.
Though I can't deny
That at times
Morn's coy shimmer takes my voice."
Suddenly we simultaneously say:
"Forgive me, I was being foolish."