I thought hell would burn
But the last coals are dying
red turns to black
quietly, gall rains down
creatures in oil
cripple the image
dislocate the mind
mindful and caring
but what is this
but lazy wealth
strings in disrepair
aching to be tuned?
Repair, overcoming
shedding old skin, growing new pain
listening to the death cries
translating them into song
Truth is like ice cream
it melts as you hold it
you never know
who is being consumed
The road, a lizard crosses
but no travelers follow its line
the sun beats down on the void
the line seems only symbolic
suddenly a car comes by
mans mighty wheels
so common these days
the lizard, squashed now.