My forever unfinished, eternally-in-progress attempt at a bleak, tragic, romanced epic.
As I cusped your oxidized hand in mine
a quicksilver teardrop escaped from your eye
in a moment of clarity we looked to the sky
the bleak, harrowed mist of the industrial sky
the titanium gravestones blocking out the red sky
As ghosts climbed the tenements, corpses to die
they brought us their music, their last battle cry
thus ignites the rebellion, the first infant strides
of a desperate adventure, a river-bound dive
through depths of betrayal and chasms of time
to douse vitriol unto mens' hearts and minds
to raze the new order in opaque formaldehyde
to scythe the oppression against you and I
two romantics of plot with a mind to defy
'till the collective elements of society's bind
(old values decayed, new bales to abide)
veiled in the earth will incur our good-bye
the bombast at dusk, 'neath vesper's paled light
when we vanquish our comfort for suicide
against the expanse of a metallic skyline
Encircle the forge, you frayed, barbaric toddlers,
suffocate the embers of Android Queen's jagged tumult!
Plaster yourselves in frankincense, myrrh, and myth
and strew your gold into the elegiac alkaline river,
shawl to the skeletons of an ancient movement, to rebels
of corrosive life corroding into disharmony, a silver mist.
And as you gaze upon these waters of rusty, seared candor,
portraits of the last adventure we'd share as mortal souls,
be keen to the chants and boleros arising from the desert floor.
They bleed the tales of downfall, a smother'd poet's long lorn lore
A lasting, raw chord