For who shall it most relate in a world of non stop propagandistic fate. On and on the full battles cry. Bomb blasts screaming and bleeding a concussive post beat. Rhythmically drumming a deafening desire, a drastic dream. We’re leaving now forgotten the last lost faint chimes.A freedom to lose the lesser extreme. Our handles fave fallen, so we grab the red sand, beneath what’s left of the palms and the man. Broken and fatal no less recommend. How to stand by while reckoning the damned.
Fateful for sure a blindness repose. The last of the times memorial compose. The matter is ours, the exterminant kind. Servile repentance, a child, a flower child of mine. The hands they are blasted, the eyes blink burnt blind, the feet seep green heavy, casualty shell deafening shattering mind. The tacit referrals have spun up my spine. I leave this a plenty, a prayer on the mind.