as amongst these stones on mossy tread I wander rounds throughout my head, I whisper soft, salutatory, the names of carved and aged glory, in hopes one day far down the line someone may treat me in kind.
Where the dead lie the flowers grow, The trees shoot tall and the winds blow. Resting in their eternal peace, Memories live on and never cease. Weathered stone and faded names, At home, broken pictures in broken frames. The woosh of an aeroplane flys overhead, To honour their sacrifice and salute the dead. For they have died so we might be free, Lives lost inland and those at sea. For we recall all that they gave, As we whisper quiet prayers beside the grave.
Glistening ‘twixt the earthen beds and o’er their marbled, granite heads drifts of pure white fractals spread to paint with sweet, angelic dread. For here on chill’d stump, in snow, before these gathered friends of stone, I dredge forth my noxious woe; to bleed in anxious, ram’bling tones. Footsteps circle through the plot, traces of my tactless thought, as from face to face I sought for answers out of ivory, wrought. But no such truths could be exhumed from such ancient, reticent tombs; and none the wiser, cloaked in gloom, I fled this terrible commune.
Angels cry in torment Twisting and swirling through the thick black clouds They curl their wings around the Uncaring gravestones, crying for sanctuary From their impassive god. I watch as the reaper leans a hand across my bleeding eyes And leads me away from the fury of wings Beating across hollow bones- As hollow as their halos.
Once upon a midnight screaming I prayed to the killer in me And it brought out the killer in you Drinking from the skulls of my enemies Don’t you know dead is the new alive? Found myself in the shadows of the light Found myself bound by his might Creeping through the mortuary Get your gun cause it's getting scary