The tree falls
These days the plundering of the landscapes doesn’t get to me as it used to
Yes we all have
We are purged
Pureed from compassion
Kissing the dagger
singing the songs already heard numerous times before
For what is it worth to see the stars when you don’t feel the stars?
For what is it worth living if you can’t live?
The dry bones
Prone are the meek
Droned are the meek
Pure are the weary
Compassion hidden so well deep in the machine
Its wheels spinning round and round
Is this all?
So there’s nothing more than this?
I rather give the devil a kiss