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cyrusPoems
smooth son/sun, you're a holy roller no fighting hedonism with a cold shoulder smolder, ignite into a ****** baptism of divine alarm because fervor is louder than alms so you could be a rolling ball of burning fingers kissing and singeing sinners who hinder what you want to tear asunder so blunder, reckless in abandon or you could be no man's son and everyone's sun and the one's son father, the world weighs a ton. our forebears split him with dynamite nile magic, scattered like stones, own the afterlife and he's got a son, so bright, light got a silver dollar and a star studded collar and the ring of fire, burns more than the rest stuff them all down inside a god's chest now the son's got a cold dish aching for one last wish, match, set, game vengeance on chaos, and sand in his throat, in his father's name **** some brother of cain and able way back when, when seth was still an animal obsessive compulsive, no demons in the cosmic sieve demons are angels, in his last breath the son wants to live but he's got to be some kind of doom cosmic boom, keep people straight in a narrow room pretty tunes, ancient runes, weave the world on an almighty loom while the sun's high, and the son's high, and it's high noon.
0
May 12, 2011
May 12, 2011 at 8:53 PM UTC
son/sun
smooth son/sun, you're a holy roller no fighting hedonism with a cold shoulder smolder, ignite into a ****** baptism of divine alarm because fervor is louder than alms so you could be a rolling ball of burning fingers kissing and singeing sinners who hinder what you want to tear asunder so blunder, reckless in abandon or you could be no man's son and everyone's sun and the one's son father, the world weighs a ton. our forebears split him with dynamite nile magic, scattered like stones, own the afterlife and he's got a son, so bright, light got a silver dollar and a star studded collar and the ring of fire, burns more than the rest stuff them all down inside a god's chest now the son's got a cold dish aching for one last wish, match, set, game vengeance on chaos, and sand in his throat, in his father's name **** some brother of cain and able way back when, when seth was still an animal obsessive compulsive, no demons in the cosmic sieve demons are angels, in his last breath the son wants to live but he's got to be some kind of doom cosmic boom, keep people straight in a narrow room pretty tunes, ancient runes, weave the world on an almighty loom while the sun's high, and the son's high, and it's high noon.
Written by
cyrus
American
May 12, 2011
May 12, 2011 at 8:53 PM UTC
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