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I stumbled on the summit's path. |
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Clumsy, clumsy. |
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No paragon am |
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I.I can't even keep my shoes tied. |
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I've been in love with |
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Owen ever since |
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I heard the strains of |
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Psalm 21.Standing between the choirs, |
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As they sang, "Laudate Dominum, Laudate Dominum". |
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Damn, I wrote it down, but |
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I left it in the pocket of my other jeans. |
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Scrawled across the foolscap: "I don't know what your devotion means,I don't know what your devotion means." |
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And up, upon the summit |
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I can seeThe one |
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I worshiped as a boy. |
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The Creator, |
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The Great |
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White Noise. |
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The Great |
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White Noise. |
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Charged and charging up the ridge. |
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The chests are empty, the coffers too. |
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They float in the flood, and so will you, |
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I swear, so will you."Your light is spent! Your light is spent!" |
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I cried,As |
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I drove the iron spike into |
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Owen's eyes. |
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The sun sped cross the plains like that cinematic moment where |
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Humanity and nature collide. |
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When you think, "Everything's gonna be all right," |
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Just before the hero gets a bullet in his side. |
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Whizzing off the clifftop, |
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Listening for the spatter, thirty floors below. |
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Down come the vultures. |
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I will not be your fuel anymore. |
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Now the author has been silenced, how will they ever decipher me? |
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I hope they hear these words and are convinced |
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You never even knew me. |
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I draw a bruise on your brawny shoulder, |
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Scratch my fingers over your tattoos. |
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The author has been removed. |
