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Chris Connelly
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This Edge of Midnight
The open machine wounds unconscious diameters drained.
The murder eclipsed by the moment of truth for a fragment of pain.
Flamed ground in the middle is distanced and forged out of faith.
The same sound that touched us before is now stained in it's grave.
Into the middle of an unexpected suicide at dawn.
Your last admission of a brittle heat momentum balanced then it's gone.
Miracle madness retrieves all that over rides trust
fullscale fraternities modeled their debts on a blood lust.
And your swansong unfoiled betrayal to send up in secret sight.
Go to the grace
all the penetrates this edge of midnight.
Cut that last chord
Deserters in dragnets
the reign of reformers
all stabbed out of dreams.
You walk with the wane of the moon where cavalcade ended its' mean
Night speaks! it's ankle deep destiny aimed at the moon
Night speaks to cure out the infidels burning up runes.
Into the middle of an unexpected suicide at dawn.
Your last admission of a brittle heat momentum balanced then it's gone.
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Damage deranged in the recoil makes human face injuries
the image of manhunt is clawed out of reach with new sanities
Force-fed perfection breeds two times the hate for the beasts of the earth
Freeze out your fantasies blamed for the sake of rebirth
Cut that last chord
A blackout circumference is aimed at an age without circumstance solved.
Icons conceived of a deadlock decision to breath,
sun-damaged rooms levitate in an era of secrets involved
Acrobat care-worms are stunted preparing to leave
Then leave us now!
While volumes are open and shut out of the heat.
The heat of heart-murmur controls the distortion of wake
Cascade in your limits confessions' arrival of hate
Without light, the waking is gentle as thirst disappears
Without light, your speaking evasion remembered in tears
Into the middle of an unexpected suicide at dawn.
Your last admission of a brittle heat momentum balanced then it's gone.
Cut that last chord
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