Monday, 21 June 2010

Modern Life Is; My War

I'm infected, and it's long since the chance of redemption reared it's ugly head.
I will die as a martyr
exploding in colorful disarray amongst the other kids who have fought to find their home amongst the crowd.

The shovels always hit concrete
The pickaxes always snapped
and i'm too full of splinters to carry on.

As the flood waters rise
I still hold the promise of a cause aloft
it shines too bright to be forgotten

still faded from all the false starts

Destination: Death or better days
a choir full of rats
and petty slaves.