God Struck, that Graceful Disgrace into Decent
(1st. version)
Am I?
Of course I’m surprised!
A secondary crucifixion
Oh Pray tell
Wither these leaves of mine
That stars may pose and shine
Soil tills the will of return
As light of day forever burns
This eternal flame we so yearn
And though you and I we try
The end ends with a cry
We can only skip small stones
Denting the self healing waters
The further we skip
The further we falter
Fist shaking at you eternal known
Divorcing humans one by one
Yet death is never forced to run, why?
Our flight weak must walk the tombs
Our death begins in the womb
Treacherous bitch of lies we die for you
Hundreds of billion feed one sun and one moon
Worm food canned in eloquent containers
For the dark backside of an estrange stranger
Shedding our skin as if god struck by stone
Remorseful and jealous of what we can’t own
Unable to heal ourselves from this mortal birth
Wither these leaves of mine
As bastard clocks keep my time
What am I really worth?
Above or below the dirt
He on the extended addition symbol
The long leg of our crucifixion
A wrong concoction we’ve been mix’in
Subtracted by the whole of time
Disguised as mercury on old dimes
Oh yes we do seem to shine, and bright
Unless of course the turning off of light
So rest us all in rust if you must
Coiling us back into fetal reconstruction
Granting destruction of skin and bones
So cold and fragile and left so alone
We are not gold but mica
A cheaper version that God struck
Why this illusion if we are to die
Why, oh why, oh why?
Why must we reassemble the sun?
Or fake a child’s death undone
How could we not see this diversion?
Following us home as we pray
Believe in me you say
If later you wish to rise
During the Sabbath sunrise
Rise then to that final conversion
Who of us would argue?
We are but formed of dirt
It’s like Shakespeare
But translated way too clear
Life is but a simple flirt
We thought us angels
Our tango caught in his light
But here in hell we are bound
Life wears a tiny crown
Born with an invisible curse
Nothing past death is ever worse
We are the useless fight
We hold no heavenly purse
Sons, daughters dance into night
Knees becoming smooth
Afraid to lose
No more grooves
Just life
Chalice me this drink for peons
Of faithful and fruitful eons
Father, Son and Holy Spirit
Our deal seems to leak a bit
A hand shake full of only human spit
Which road of yours shall we follow?
The bird of prey or a timid swallow
Does your truth bend with light?
Does your light bend our day?
What is wrong, what is right?
What would you truly say?
Good fight or just goodnight
Or are we just
God Struck
