Thine acts are of no worth
and in thy Eye is death
Mock the traveler on the road
that does struggle to take a breath

Thoughts are scattered on the wind
and forever cast with doubt
Alas, the wind sighs back again
to bring thine own disaster about

To take apart a simple verse
is to pick upon the bleeding carcass
that has shed it's skin, simple carrion
to feed the masses as is asked of us

The quill that has governed experience
has been sharpened upon the rusty knife
Forsaken in the course of revelry and
taken to the very edge of a lonely life

Cast a jagged eye to an empty corpse
and spill platitudes that crawl with malice
Seek the macabre as noble warriors of yore
there will nay be drinking from the mystical chalice