Of the silence?
Are you aware?

"Of course,
But I don't care."

A word just sounded,
From beyond the dark!

"Absurd this accusation,
Silence leaves no mark."

Silence in one constant chord,
You're a lyrical being true.

Static on the radio's ward,
A sound heard by the living few,

Always hiding,
Always plotting,

Plotting to **** you.

PART I.

Caesar calls.
In line his empire falls.

Satan crawls.
His words in drawls.

Why will you not cry!
You foolish child-king.
Can't you see they lie?
But the enlightened bell of hope did ring.

They called him the messiah,
The only explanation for his love.
Spreading peace or land of Gaea,
But under false witness of the above.

Told throughout his life that he would make hatred cease.
He knew to follow moral ways and save damnation's piece.

He knew not what he'd do,
But he would devote his life unto,
Herding these wretched to the path they were due.
If only he truly knew.

PART II.

What this man had done,
Born under the Roman's sun,
Is relinquish emotion too strong.
To become one,
Work must be done,
For the human race is wrong.

Although he lied,
Although his wrath grew,
This man was truly good.
His teaching here are sacred, true,
But wars fought for him never stood.

The prince of peace to light the way,
Caused human freedom's final decay.

Now trapped forever,
A misused endeavor.

His birth is all but in vain.
We must pass peace to end his pain.

Stop it.
Stop it.
Leave it.
Leave it.
If you were worth it,
We'd make it.

That coward would die,
For a chance to just try,
To lick at your lips,
were you not taken by,

That coward,
That *******!

A sick **** who won't break through,
He took you from me while you burned this infidelity unto.

"I'm ******* here!"
You scream and you kick,
The beautiful *****,
The transparent trick.

They can't both have you,
But I'm ******* here,
To love you or stab you.
To drown in our tears.

Says the monarch to his advisers,
"Find me a place of infinite joy and rest."
The ambassador and general for weeks ponder such test.

They knew that their lives would be ended upon failure,
And such a place as described was of very much allure.

They abandoned their families and searched throughout hell.
No death toll called for them,
But their wives and children were unwell.

The monarch grew fat,
Replacing his cabinet.
"Where the broken ones go,
Is the place where peasants set."

Battered and weary,
Their families starved dead,
The two men returned,
The paradise was found in the end.

Where the broken ones go is where they found endless rest.
The paradise lost to humans who burned the sacred guest.

When they arrived to the palace a messenger informed,
"You foolish ******* have killed your families and been replaced!"
He scorned.

"Call us not fools,"
In unison they said,
"We have found paradise where the broken ones go,
And to traverse there we have the tools of your God's dead."

The messenger looked down with terrible fright.
Shot dead on the spot he would find endless night.

They bowed to the monarch and were invited to approach.
"What have you putrid peasants brought me?" He snarled with reproach.

"We have brought you the paradise that you seek without care."
"Insolent fools! I will have you murdered should you not share!
I demand to know this place of such wonder for my lair."

Then the two men spoke a prayer,
Twin vocals so pure,

"Where the broken ones go,
Where death finds no show,
But will have such appeal,
For death is the paradise to which all will kneel."

The monarch laughed heavily and fell to his knees,
He was no more an immortal than the men and the breeze.

His last smile on his face,
the men fired,
The monarch swam in his own blood,

The monarch found paradise where the broken ones should.

In the day,
I feel the end coming,
No wind blowing,
No insect humming.

The horizon stretches,
toward the pink and orange sky.

How I wish I could go there.
How beautiful to die.

But living...
As a coward,
wallowing,
Day by day,
hour by hour,

Swallowing our fears,
Then for a safety we drink them down some more.

These calloused fingers show the work of mankind,
But when there's nothing left nothing matters but this mind.

The senile society we work for today,
Killed me dead on the spot with bio-terror serenades.
The fire in the sky lights my hopes ablaze,

They are ashes now,
The desires of this day.
To myself I wouldn't bow,
a god in disarray.

An empire of one man,
One freedom,
one gun.

By day this infinite power,
By a day that is an hour.

And this empire has one man,
One coward.

The slow trickle behind my bedroom wall,
alerts me to a subtle call.

"Help...help... save me from this cell."
But I cannot risk my sanity o'er my mind's concocted hell.
"Please... please... I miss life all too well."
Says I, "Do not stir me demon, my soul is not to sell."

I wrap the sheets around my ears and focus hard to sleep,
But a rest was not deserved for the demon craved to leap.

"I smell blood! I smell blood!
Like the sweetest rose-bud!"

Says I, "I smell nothing fiend!
You are only dreamed!
No reality in this is seen."

A chortle laugh is known just then while my walls begin to creak.
A drop of blood falls on my chest and grants a chilling shriek.

"Is it too late for reality to change its mind and let me die?"
The crimson stain upon my ceiling has deemed my end is nigh.

"Do you hear me? Do you hear me? Are you yet so vain?"  
Says I, "I am not! I am not! Do cause me no more pain!"

A sharp crack of thunderous tempered toil rips a chasm through my soul.
The trickle, trickle, trickle, to sleep will never lull.

"Do you hear it? Do you see it? Do you envy all the dead?"
"I smell blood! I smell blood! But out gushes YOUR blood instead!"

And then a scream of biting hatred breaks the silence through.
The stain pours blood upon my room while tempest's force ensues.

The dead retreat,
Unto their sleep,

Now my only friend is you.