Looking for the answer in it
Can’t admit it
Drowning in these analytics
Bose speaker system, hands of Riddick
Chronicle the cancer ridden
Crab upon a bicycle
The lies and anthem hidden
Blue crosses on a shield of the same hue
Holding us in triage until the clearance came through
Perspective locked inside a pocket box to claim views
Motorcycles gutted riders where the crane flew
In different ways we hear the same news
A ricochet to race through
Our lives
And yet we remain to make do
The mayhem that may move us for the briefest image
Capturing shared experience, a thief admitted
The thesis of what it means to be is resubmitted
Indeed allegiance to the need arisen
Grease the grisly as the hands cleanse another well
Lines of pontius as the pilate sups from his cup to sell
So what the hell
One is the loneliest
So find me residing between the and 3 and the 4
Pi is what I roam within
Not pious but I wander empty roads with ghostly kin
Woe be him limping slowly on a broken limb
A lack of focus grins every fang a sharpened smudge
Family trees in the woodchipper, dogs are barking up
A marginal margin of error Worse than rabid bites
The victor slurping rancid spoils in his cabin, bright
A stab of light going against the grains, agendas change
Different words that meant the same, beneath torrential rain
A wrench remains, thrown upon the throne and melted inwards
Walking slowly in this hellish winter
No need to rush, just taking time to soak it in
I paint confines when I am motoring
So why do I forge the bars with my idle hands
Not even sure that I’d survive a glance
The recipient of stares withering within
Talking toughness, so brittle in his skin
Chiseling a grin from the stone faced
Pebbles from the pond in an oak vase
Field of dreams and the scarecrow’s gone
Reveal the fiends who prepare most taunts
