Nothing to forgive.
No desire or memory.
Everything cast into the
Hell I’ve created for myself.
Nightfall.
Slumber and the myth of
inner peace.
Moon casts shadows upon
the vanity of man.
First light.
Awaken.
Memory of dreams passes.
It’s time to abandon the
place of my salvation.

Walking down Fifth Avenue
on a Sunday afternoon.
Shuffling to the rhythm
of the ghetto’s tortured
brilliance.
African Mozarts fill the air
with their street corner
symphonies.
Silence ensues as a slow
rain begins to fall.
The lively street soon becomes
deserted, a shadow of an ancient
memory.
Turning left on Fifty Second.
A couple huddling in a doorway.
They manage a smile as the
lingering rain continues unabated.

Inside the pearly gates
of doom beside an ancient
throne
There lie the Holy robes
of God atop a stack of
bone
An echo from the gleaming
sky recalls His final words:

“I am the God of everything…”

And nothing else is heard.

Does anyone know
where sanity goes
when the voices
cry out in the silence?
And all that you knew
has been proven untrue
but the blood and the pain
and the violence.
If there ever was time
to collect what is mine
it’s a long time ago
I am certain.
The reward I desired
was consumed in the fire
when the gods up on high
dropped the curtain.
And don’t ever presume
that your life will resume
when insanity passes with
morning.
For the shadows hold fast
to the present and past
when love disappears
without warning.

He’s found Hell
who's searched
his mind and dared
to see his soul.
And Heaven too
is there as well
for those who pay
the toll.
But few find Heaven
from within and many
rot in Hell.
While fewer still find
anything and no one
lives to tell.

Half moon twilight, shadows fade
Specters rise within the glade
Advancing in a soft parade
Along the hills and colonnade

Ghostly phantoms long forgotten
Wailing souls from Hell begotten
Crying out for Satan’s pity
Forsaken by the Holy see

Where to go and what direction
Darwin’s natural selection
Never saw this sad collection
Death’s pathetic imagery

Floating down among the people
bowed beneath a different steeple
'Perhaps these foreign gods will
save us from eternal misery'

But god’s are all created equal
from the start and thru the sequel
By the same enamored people
living in this desperate land

And so my friend there’s no salvation
from this fear and desperation
The freedom of annihilation
again denied by Heaven’s hand.

When the world seems
too heavy
And my back is breaking
from the load
I look off in the distance
but see no lights upon
the road
Well it all just kind of ended
before I knew it had begun
I'm tired of this darkness
and the shadows on the sun

Life is never easy
and death is always
hard
I look up at the dealer
as he passes me a card
I slip it in my pocket
and I walk out in the yard
The moonlight looks so jaded
and it pays me no regard

Salvation in a bottle
Liberation in a glass
The God who made
the flowers put the
serpent in the grass
I guess the way it
happens is the way
it's supposed to be
Heaven is for certain…

If you never disagree.