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Dyscarnate
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This is Fire
This hate is so strong I must inhale fire!
I will my cheeks to be bellows to the embers of the pyre.
You and your existence are one and the same,
But you can't stop screaming the rank of your name.
You're sharpening that axe but it couldn't cut muster,
Hacking at the neck, the victim cries 'Suffer!'
You're biting your teeth, all retch, no bile.
No one needs convincing of your Mona Lisa smile.
You're preaching to the choir, not one of them can sing.
The voices of the righteous sound violently thin.
The picture on the water is captivating.
You are the unfulfilled, the weaver of lucid dreams.
Stay a few seconds in silence,
Wherever you are, clearly you will hear our screams:
We will stamp you out,
You'll swallow ground,
We see beneath your mask, your lies, your crown,
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We will stamp you out,
You'll swallow ground,
The crown is down,
With all our might we stamp you out.
If these walls could weep, we would surely drown,
You won't smile so smugly when you're swallowing the crown,
If these walls could weep, we'd surely drown,
The nail sticking out will be hammered down.
Inside this broken mirror, reflects a shattered soul,
Cast down like a stone,
The porcelain it crumbles, the vain, the cracks expose,
Painted flesh on bone.
The tomb awaits its mistress, preserve the rotten soul,
Bound in cloth, encased in gold.
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