I S O L A T I O N

The city is burnt to ashIt's infected by a plague of envy and wrath
The buildings are left perfectly cracked
The rubble is dying and decayed
The air is filled with blues and grays
They left this place to betray the lies
of the demented preacher.

Their eyes were darkened with anarchy
mouth's filled with dust.
You could smell
the anger burning out of their lungs.
They sabbatoged eachother.
We
breathed. And fed on eachother.

And gave birth

to new weaponry.

new stratagies.

new ways to defeat

eachother.

But we focussed on the boss

no matter how many soldiers

we lost.

He sat atop the building.

I could feel the heat

radiating off his mask.

I can hear the ice

clinking in his glass.

The liquor stained his teeth

but his power stained his ego.

He

Looked down on us

He

glared and cackled

to himself

just to show

that he was better

than us.

He

provoked rape and crime

and nothing but

"All Hail the Paradigm."

He said things that didn't apply.

Only empty words for the rich man's war

where the poor just fight.

Exploitation is contageous.

He says,

"The blood of the wolves falls like rain.

and the heat of war brings nothing but pain."

But we forget the world's going green

by using the blood of the fallen

to grease the machines.

"Let's play born again American

Resistance is the game."

Churches' capolists crimes are built for the seige

but men and wemon are wronged

if they're plaged with homosexuality.

This war is for the rich

that shower us with dimes and pennies.

a quarter or two if we're lucky.

Yet, as we stood infront of him

he begged for a few pennies

for his miniacle sins.

There was a roar

of laughter

to ourselves.

The same in proportion to the secretary's snorts

when we begged for the promised sorts.

What would you do..

What would you do if we did it to you?

The silence is killing the dead.

"Smile and pretend

you never mattered anyways."

I remember it perfectly.

War paint smothered our bodies.

Tribal designs were drawn on everybody.

We were covered in stones

and noise makers.

There was melody filtering the air

beating bass drums and snairs

Vibration filled our lungs

we all were one

and all pitched and sung

to the sacrificial lamb.

The moon ruled the night sky.

We were savaged

and celebrating our rights

as animals.

Our enemy was bound

so I screamed louder than sound

to the heaven's gate.

The gods answered back with thunder and lightning.

Acid poured from the blues and grays

and melted our paints
it was smeared and raw.
There was blood dripping from his jaw
like the distain that fell from the skies.

But, there were whispers
wrapping around my mind.

"leave the boss to his own demise."


There is liberty
stuck in between the cracks
of society.
Everything is psychological.
Free yourself from the whips and chains.
Psyschosomatic.
Redemption pours like rain.
Another moment,
realization.
A worse punishemnt

I S O L A T I O N

We walk away and hear his cries.

Leave the boss to his own demise.