....There were six
             then five
            then four

    Now in silence
       after the war
  that no one won

I listen to the symphony
    of failed angels
         of how they
were underscored

Trust in meaningless man
not a God thought
     of fearing man

Out of tune , out of key
             hums the
  cherished sound
       of disarryied
          dissonance

The caked dried blood
     flowing inside
            our viens
       powder puff
                breath

With all that was made
     fold and press
put up and away

It's just a paper cut
               but the
Drip , Drip , Drip
          becomes a
               Sunday
             sacrifice