"nihilson" poems
They call him the King of Horror
He’s a walking Armageddon
A nightmare given flesh
Made to rot and decay
Just like everything else
I call him by the barcode
Written right on his brain
Nihilson
CHORUS 1:
With an empty stomach and heart
There is no hope from the start
That’s how he was designed
To cut our world down to size
From the penthouse fat cats
To the downtown thugs
No man or child is safe
From his marrow touch
And his eyes of hate
They see no happiness
No truth or dare
Just bugs and cocktails
Waiting to be spilled
Till every drop is gone
He won’t rest in peace
Until life is dead
CHORUS 2:
With an empty stomach and heart
There is no love from the start
That’s how he was designed
(God help our wretched souls)
To tear the world down to size
He’s cut the world down to size
Is he the King of Horror?
Can he crawl out of the grave
And into our dreams?
Is there no stopping him?
Will our minds be wiped clean
So we can suffer no longer?
Will we not even remember
How Nihilson came to be?
What does it matter?
We are who we will be
From one monster to another
It’s all a bad dream
That’s all we can dream
To be heard and never seen
That’s who we will be
If we don’t wake up and see
Jul 26, 2020
Jul 26, 2020 at 5:57 PM UTC