Dwellers of The Fifth Grove...
To those in your guise...
From where they fall,
Your shadows will stand erect from out the inside of those walls.
To dirty dance entranced in the sound of your demise…
Solid enough to be grabbed and hurled to the ground,
Hissing towards that dry hardness,
Where they will hit and shatter into hundreds of silent pieces, and then merge with the souls of our feet to sickly walk the paths to which we’re all bound…
These ghosts are now your children.
Food for the hype…
Riddled by the many trends fashioned from the latest hatred in this era’s slave trade.
Building blocks for the old hollow that shifts in fancy word jugglery to praise the dead with failed attempts to corrupt Absolute Truth…
And the divided dogs will bark themselves to bits in that night,
Fed by a fear of hunger, became fools who’d kill for this incredible stereotype,
As mad colorful beings stand in the white to sh*t this darkness into sight…
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