• The Protagonist


    Here he lays,
    florescent waves,
    like aeroplanes,
    glide through his body.

    Every second,
    a spark will ring,
    as the birds sing,
    hymes to the city.

    As he walks,
    through the dance floor,
    into the night,
    the star line so pretty.

    Florescent waves,
    he does not share,
    as the wrap around,
    his grasp on reality.

    And as he lays,
    his florescent waves,
    move through his body,
    and as he lays,
    through his veins,
    florescent waves, florescent waves.

    Here he stands,
    along in flow,
    giving him every,
    epiphany.

    In the night,
    the city lights die,
    he can see them,
    much more clearly.

    In the dark,
    his friends will tell,
    show him the way,
    bring him to glory.

    As he lays,
    within the dark,
    they make him so happy,
    as he lays,
    florescent waves,
    lead the city to beauty.

    The Anarchist

    The starry night so deep,
    as my friends mend and mold into,
    a locket for safe keep,
    watching as the ground enfolds to red,
    all roses floating fast,
    down stream to the waterfall,
    listening to the flow,
    as the bloody river starts to scream.

    My friends look what we've done,
    thrill me with the vibrent light,
    flowing through the sky,
    like smoke of reds and hughs.

    I must have stabbed him 50 times,
    listening to them scream,
    hymns from the church ring,
    from their vocal chords,
    i must have stabbed him 50 times,
    and 50 times for bleeding,
    and 50 times for bleeding,
    and 50 times for bleeding.

    The Illusionist

    The air flows clear now,
    the flowers glisten violets,
    when all is done with,
    their lives changed,
    they are all gone.

    Left only is me,
    the only man to blame for this,
    I'd like to blame them,
    but with that they have disappeared,
    like the families.

    The World Needs To Reclaim.