At the peak of the broken unspoken she broke
Her voice carried so all could be merry
But when they heard the shrill of the unpracticed
Tablets broke for the sacred word was turned to ****

Love is the melody that rings but has no sound
It lingers on cracked lips and is already dead
Art is dead
We are dead and argue with but instead

Listen to the way the window opens around 4am
There is more pleasure in that sound
Then the pounds and pounds and pounds
Of steaming green grass shat out by the fairest bovine

Voices were once considered a sacred thing
From GOD they say
Now they line the walls with different tones
Like a far away village worshipping ancient bones

Compulsion to spread is human behavior
A feature that should have been extracted long ago
Soon the rats will have to pack up their yoga mats
And the bears to diminish their wears

Up in the dirt the worms talk amongst themselves
"Were alright, right?...we got it all figured out?"
While the corpses who were buried just yesterday
Flip through the paper but don't have the tongues to say

With care we will open the gates of fiery hell
With care we will glimpse into the pupils of eternity
With care we will **** our way into death
With care we will discover what love is all over again