It's been a long time
but the ink scrawls & lines all fall into place

an expressionist
glimpse into urban dreams

somewhere in the past
a typewriter sounds

someone is writing
a masterpiece

which will never
be published

in a land
soon to be bombs & flame

meanwhile my lines
make out the city of my dreams

Blood, Skin, Stalk and Stone
Proud men must die alone

Brass, Steel, Flesh and Bone
Brave men must die alone

Dust, Parchment, Ink and Tone
Wise men must die alone

Velvet, Gold, Crown and Throne
Rich men must die alone


Cold, Dark, Scared and Unknown
Drifting, Spinning, Circling and Prone
Empty for eons, Ego's Overgrown
Mankind must die alone