27

not often do I bring your ends about myself
i leave that to the hunters and the killers
but I would love to see you suffer so terribly
I must be graceful because no one can catch me
in this act where I pull bone from flesh

its gotten to the point where I can look in the mirror
and only recognize the father I never knew
morphing all the curves and remains
from last nights 40 ounces and 40 proof
the bile and blood staining the toilet
and the forgotten promises to raise my children right

its true i've needed to get away from myself
even taken the 5 a.m. through tokyo
looking for my empty promises
but i'll never throw whats left of myself
away from the ones who loved me the most
the crying child unaware of the scum you were

vocals and money can only go so far
especially when he was of age, the funding became extinct
the love i've seen perish in myself
and the myths ive seen fade with advances in science
will never amount to the disdain i hold for
fathers in this country

without saying a word you could have brought
those dreams of dinosaurs and robots back to my dreams
but without saying a word you destroyed
the small things that your supposed to give in youth

im truthfully quite thankful I dont have all of your traits
the ones where I abandon messes i've made
I can smile and take all your shit or lack there of
because that's what men do
we spill some blood, and we clean the mess
with all the trimmings

but youre one of those pilgrims
pillaging the rightful owners of the land you sold
just like your soul with no regard
to those who depending on your loyalty
but whats that worth, Arthur died years ago
and Excalibur was quickly buried
honor seems more of a threat than a promise in my eyes

the reasons I doubt myself and who I am
all lay blame to knowing people such as yourself
walk this earth
and still sleep soundly at night.

26

vandalize the cauterized wounds breaking our traditions
not enough science to fill our lungs
nor enough socialism to keep our pockets full
manifesto's to bring militia's to arms
against our own souls we take up fire arms
we can scribe will's and testaments on parchment
keep our secrets within our concrete walls
but bricks will bring out the strength in our weakness
your shotgun will ring
hell's bells will sing

to doom is our prophets foresight
from redemption is our means of transportation
but the throbbing in our skulls
creates the beat to our hearts
when our esophagus's are filled with others bile
and the streets filled of carcase and carrion
crows feast upon cornea and christ's blood
the ripper, he loots the disemboweled
cash for all of the abandoned merchandise
money in a world breathing upon is own deterioration
cash in your chips
buy yourself a raft to live your last on