The Death of Yesterday

We destroy what we cannot possess then mourn the loss.
People die for just being
Ambitions burn the brightest as all the bridges burn
Becoming a pyre of conscience and humanity
So the bridges must burn
No surreptition
Nothing sublime
The only way up is down
The only way out is to die
The guard falls
One by one
Dishonor in honor
Glory in sacrifice
And the music drifts by as the fiddler plays
Soothing the conscience that carries
the weight of all the slain

 

The Empty People

Forget the chains that bound us, the high’s become normal.

And as we itch for that old feeling of liberation our vision gets blurred and our hearts

turn black, because we can’t turn back the clock, it’ll never feel like that first time, so we

fill the void with the only thing left, revelry and tyranny.

And the revolutionary becomes the Sadist as the high slips further and further away.