We have all died, and returned as the night.
We arrived with the black water sky.
In death we take flight,
evading the light from the dying glare
of the days left behind.
And I believe that we shall see an end to our realities,
when all the creeps of destiny decide to eat the peace.
And so we ****
Greedily
at the **** of our benefactor
& desperately seek a new way to manufacture death and disease,
the bereaved we all will become - in one fell swoop,
Bereaved, you could be of Us.
THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD
IS NOTHING BUT A STAGE
For the tragic, black comedy of life
To be performed
AND THAT UNIVERSAL STAGE
WILL COLLAPSE ONE DAY
When all of us return to the Unborn.
THE SHOW MUST GO ON
NO MATTER WHAT'S WRONG
But every show closes
Eventually.
One day we'll have to fall.
Curtains for us all.
One day our world will crumble,
The final curtain call.
And on that final day,
of Reckoning,
I only hope we can still bow out,
Respectfully.
An old... most likely drug-induced poem about.... the apocalypse, I'm pretty sure. Obviously loaded with theatre references.