The goat, it ran
With all its might
To escape bearing the blame.

The goat, it ran
Far out of sight
Until it bore great pain.

The goat had thought
It escaped flood
With the cover of night’s veil,
But then, the goat had realized
Blood
Was dripping from his tail.

The scent of sin
Is ripe in man,
Yet the vision isn’t there.
The scent of sin
Rains burning sand
Yet the sinner fails to care.
The scent of sin
Consumes the land
For at nothing does it halt.
The scent of sin
Is spread by hand
For they build top pillars of salt.

A boldened king
Shall take his stand
In a kingdom to be broken.
The fate holds true
For whistling winds’
Prophecy was spoken.
The southern prince
Will turn to face
The fort of his own land.
Though he stood tall
He’d surely fall
And perish by Earth’s hand.
In his absence
His place is claimed
As to the Earth he’s bound.
And much like his kingdom’s future,
True,
His body shant be found.

Welcome to the land
Beyond the coastline of the sea
Where we read poetry
Under the light
Of the moon.

Welcome to the world
Where as far as god’s decree
Words are written
Just for flowers
To bloom.

In this inky place
It’s found
All that’s written
Has no place to die,

And as the blotches
Fill the page
We find there’s
No time to cry.

And so we read,
And read,
And read,
Until we fail to see.

All just to write,
And write,
And write,
Until we cease to be.

I’ll tell you the truth,
Your world will break.
All you had thought you had known in your wake
Will fall apart,
And in the end
Your broken heart will fall.

I’ll tell you a lie,
Your fate holds true.
Everything which you had thought you had knew
Will lose its stride,
You cannot hide
From the cacophony of calls

From the end
Of the Judgement Hall.

The Dove, it flew,
Passed those it knew
Whom lived to hunt its hide.
Creatures give chase,
Each with great haste,
The Dove, it lost its stride.
It meets its end.
It missed the bend.
They hear the fledglings cry.
They need not chase,
They meet the base,
And the Dove loses its pride.

With the Dove dead,
Its fledglings fed,
To creatures of the night,
Covered in red
They rest their heads
Completely in delight.
Its spirit fled
By death it’s led
A story not so bright.
Its legacy said,
And sin it’s shed,
The Dove had lost the fight.