If the beat of the drum
Is the rolling thunder,
And the lull of the flute
Is cheap defense,
How does the music keep me
Asleep inside?
Perhaps the conductor
Is a wicked protector.
And the orchestra summons
The wayward ******
So look me in the eye
And sing the songs.
My own civil war was right all along.
Because only on the inside,
War is song.
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 3:06 PM UTC
If the beat of the drum
Is the rolling thunder,
And the lull of the flute
Is cheap defense,
How does the music keep me
Asleep inside?
Perhaps the conductor
Is a wicked protector.
And the orchestra summons
The wayward ******
So look me in the eye
And sing the songs.
My own civil war was right all along.
Because only on the inside,
War is song.
I fight with myself. All the time. I am my own worst enemy, yet there is a dark haunting melodic beauty in the war that I wage against myself
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