my sweetheart's brass words ricocheted in my hollow hall of a head, the fresh priests and the ancient lords, had fallen on their own swords, I didn't feel like bleeding so I went to bed.
I woke to find all the people called me slowly disintegrated in a colossal whirl, the celestial dreams fed to an angry sea, my weary hands were ripe, red; ready to be in front of the painter's forgiving hurl.
the remnants struck the canvas with mad speed, cutting, blending, burying the flickering light, I split the transformation with a hopeful creed, from now on I'm the freedom you need, with a echoing clap and a weighty bellow- I broke the night.