Thou shalt be in paradise with me
It lies beyond these double doors
We shall lay with society's whores
Fear not the place in potter's field
To my words give yield
I speak no more
My breath is gone
Soon shall come the evening dawn
We know not when the sun shall rise
Yet it knows of our demise
Verily it peeps over the cusp
Of a horizon
That burns the souls
Who dig our holes
Out in potter's field
Where ravens rest their wings
Doves go by
The church bell rings
Think upon these ponderous things
You who are amongst the living dead
Your unique feeling of what you dread
Is all in your head
Paranoid drama that haunts you so
Sexless pretenders to and fro
Thank the Gods that death saves us
From your meaningless words
Our time is spent listening to
Songs of gentle birds
Who mourn more for our souls
Than you ever will in your lifetime
For you are just the living dead
Old and worthless before your prime
Yea though we walk through this
Valley of death
We have no fear of crossing paths
With your kind ever again
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
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