frankincense becomes the vapour that I savour
In the catacombs I look into cold unwelcoming rooms
the tomb of the priest betrays him
Less ornate as his God seems to hate the ostentatious
even in death and the tomb there's no room for the show off or braggart
but you can
**** in the face of the dreamer, this place is beyond all redemption
the supplicants supperate as
they wait for forgiveness
his highness denies them
and casts out
unholy men.
lesser men might live but there's
no turn or no quarter to give in this dark place,
no warmth to give succour to neither man nor his saviour
we may as well abandon all hope.
the redeeming feature is myself, a sentient creature born of the womb
on these floors in this tomb
I face inwards.
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 3:30 AM UTC
frankincense becomes the vapour that I savour
In the catacombs I look into cold unwelcoming rooms
the tomb of the priest betrays him
Less ornate as his God seems to hate the ostentatious
even in death and the tomb there's no room for the show off or braggart
but you can
**** in the face of the dreamer, this place is beyond all redemption
the supplicants supperate as
they wait for forgiveness
his highness denies them
and casts out
unholy men.
lesser men might live but there's
no turn or no quarter to give in this dark place,
no warmth to give succour to neither man nor his saviour
we may as well abandon all hope.
the redeeming feature is myself, a sentient creature born of the womb
on these floors in this tomb
I face inwards.
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