Daisy_5
04-03-2006, 08:26 PM
Haven't really posted here before, but here goes.
Smoking Kills
The dignitary line of forming against a weapon,
Grander than gasping and greater than screaming
Within the lion’s path of freezing (A coma).
Selfish embellishment on idiosyncratic terminology,
Spread on deafened wings that beat down
on the minds of those “free” Saviours,
Who spent decades building a bomb as a means to peace,
And as a piece to mean something in the Nobel way.
And we all pick up those pieces,
As a means to deliver ourselves –
A modern way to exist.
Future is a finite distinction - Amongst the realm,
Of time and dimension, Even language has it’s barrier,
Buried within the clips and staples of our minds.
The obtained – The self proclaimed – The crazed –
Sense of drowning in the loss of stardom,
Freedom pissed down on those that rename inertia.
Lost in the silent creeping of time,
Breathing slowly in the back and destroying all signs of redemption.
If we stutter for a second,
We’d find the machine,
Locked in infinite loop.
And sweep the nails with tarred brushes,
Because there’s a million ways to kill yourself,
But only one way to live.
I'll explain it if no-one understands it.
Cheers.
Smoking Kills
The dignitary line of forming against a weapon,
Grander than gasping and greater than screaming
Within the lion’s path of freezing (A coma).
Selfish embellishment on idiosyncratic terminology,
Spread on deafened wings that beat down
on the minds of those “free” Saviours,
Who spent decades building a bomb as a means to peace,
And as a piece to mean something in the Nobel way.
And we all pick up those pieces,
As a means to deliver ourselves –
A modern way to exist.
Future is a finite distinction - Amongst the realm,
Of time and dimension, Even language has it’s barrier,
Buried within the clips and staples of our minds.
The obtained – The self proclaimed – The crazed –
Sense of drowning in the loss of stardom,
Freedom pissed down on those that rename inertia.
Lost in the silent creeping of time,
Breathing slowly in the back and destroying all signs of redemption.
If we stutter for a second,
We’d find the machine,
Locked in infinite loop.
And sweep the nails with tarred brushes,
Because there’s a million ways to kill yourself,
But only one way to live.
I'll explain it if no-one understands it.
Cheers.