Makeshift mannerisms and blood composed of fire and dirt
streaming through my wrist and fingertips
learning to breathe once more
a feeling of passion in the midst of such monotony.
Modesty, your majesty, modesty;
Sometimes it's acceptable to do your best.

Concerned with cancer and algorithms
Love drawn from oak
Pressure the unfeeling, torture the joyous.
Do it as it must be done
Forget your phantoms.
Let them sleep, descend.