I am a product of god's ignorance
I've been built from marred clay
Blame me, for sanity's sake
But the potters hands faltered
Irregardless of what some might say

I ingest every ounce of ink
I can manage to get a hold of
Until it permiates
And percolates again and again
Filtering through matter once gray
Leaving it saturated

Invoking imagery
Evoking change
And aptitude long since vacant

Because we bet on friends, but count on ourselves
With a fickle mistrust
Hardly justified, but well enough adapted
Laughable, really, when its thought about

Its only been recent that I've had so little time to place bets
And so little time to gamble
Like a trick of the vagrant wind
Ageless as it flows between a million meetings  of the minds
All great and inspired
Lying on so many final wills
And parting testaments

Grave, where is your sting...

Assumed to be bitter, it would seem
But bonds long since sutured to flesh
Make for an easy stretch of time
From now
Until forever ends

Each and every one

Each of my bones was broken and
Then set into themselves
Folding over backwards
Misshapen and deformed
Heaven blessed my torments many
Bitter running brooks that flow
Over every broken bone
Making each one whole

Restitution, but at a price
Vengefully demanded sacrafice
Only half a moment wasted lost in thought
Standing on the brink of a crossroad

Goddess, take a hold on me
Spirits, rend my soul free of these
Would be chains

A fall like lightning can illuminate
A dark night

The symbol of an age ending
And another fire burning