[00:00.00]Old black tusks ripped off of the beast at the bank of the swamp
[00:10.24]And carved into statues of arthritic gods
[00:15.68]Or the handles of blunt swords that you'll one day ruin upon,
[00:22.61]With your eyes covered in moss.
[00:27.83]Shot down in its sleep,
[00:33.41]The big game of the world wide garbage heap.
[00:39.19]You mounted its head on your wall. The prize?
[00:43.50]Hollowed out eyes, mold in the cracks of its skull.
[00:49.06]The fur is matted with blood
[00:51.86]and its tongue wet with mother's milk.
[00:53.86].
[00:54.80]The gates opened wide and bedlam came.
[01:00.08]Wise men were forced into a layman's trade.
[01:06.11]With nothing but time, chaos reigns.
[01:12.25]A great quiet has followed you to here.
[01:17.11]A blustering wind with nothing of worth in its heart or hands.
[01:24.07]Your legacy is a dull catalogue of common things
[01:33.79]You've never even seen the blood you've drawn
[01:39.72]Or looked in the eyes of the kill you claim was yours
[01:44.94]Before taking your picture with it.
[01:47.06].
[01:47.44]