WORD KILL, ROAD KILL & FLAMES OUT, A DARKNESS MORPHED INTO LIGHT
Here and now only the strong survive the games of mankind, survival of the unfit is The Ends
Of the humans or mice, pieces of scat pie in locomotion, solution or problem, fakin' godsends
Punks who were raised in orphanages and mansions of the demi-gods keepin' it real in a hole
Black without any burning atoms causing fire and the light that photosynthesises your Soul.
Thoroughbreds as you may or may not be, nothing matters in the end, except honor of the ash
Bones buried, incinerated or sunk down into sea salt's Davy Jones' locker, a rubber soul cache
Gilded with the elemental lead and gold, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen enough to go out & in
Making the carbon end to be the annihilation of the Divine gods & evolved monkey's man sin.
Hold on to your thought for your own final attempt to grasp your own value for vital breath
In & out until it doesn't work any longer, soul gone, nervous system shutdown switch death
A serious miracle you've gone rogue without leaving any signature of your X markin' the spot
Marking no spot, wanting and giving no trouble to mice nor men, I see no evil yet hear a lot!
Begin with wherever you were, whatever you can recollect from your first realization of Ego
What I want is what I want and who you are and what you want are of no consequence Bro
What the educated dead know for certain, the illiterate living confirm as Truth, It is Nothing
Nothing but Mother Earth's burned-out, dirty star ash, we used to be a Super Nova bee sting.
You will see what I shall see the moment before the rupture with reality as we know it, eh?
Naked Truth or Fake News have one and the same outcome, until death do we all depart It
Predicates to motivate subjects & objects in perpetuity, dreams within dreams' skies of blue
A playlist for the A students & the F students, the song remains at One, upon lake or a bayou.
Assume the position, upright, upside down, downside is that you have no choice, it's your job
To be or not to be in the center of the Truth is an illusion provided by Aristotle, Plato & a guy
Names of the continental crops reaped and sewn from the cold, dead hands of our holy tribe
Games rules broken, reconstituted dirty ash of burned particles A to Z, kill a word, a diatribe.
Look out below, the bombs are away goin' down with gravity and the rudder on auto pilot
Onto the center of the bullseye, where angels fear to go, a direct hit means annihilation shot
Took a parsec or two flyin' through Space at an infinite Time but it's all about the beat's feel
Rockin' rollin' or swayin' and swingin', it's your play, you know the rules, Pass Go & Get Real!
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Lundi, March XXIst, MMXXI Anno Domini @ 711 AMPST
{ #PlanningForHolocaust101 #ForgetAboutIt #ExtinctionOfGenome drafted this masterpeace of my ID while listenin' to the @DoobieBrothers #ListenToTheMusic & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/DkytJLoxGmQ }
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?