When I became God I looked to man for advice
And in a murderous rage I demand death to my device
For the souls that feel lost and jaded
Like a river that is drained and faded
I'm the mad cat whose life was traded
And for this I will not be degraded
I tolerate the flowers that bloom upon my path
Because some shall endure my terrible wrath
It is the suffering and the weeping
The gnashing of teeth and the reaping
It is the pain of life and the hell to come
This field of clarity is not meant for the numb
No comments:
Post a Comment