The young are immoral the old are all wise youth always lost on these Bastards plaguing land and sea-tapping endlessly better unborn than Servitude backs on our latitude. i hope to outlive beauty and grace Left with only human waste discussing matters of our place cloaks and Robes set ablaze. praying to stand degrading a heartland dollhouse Castles line our eyes lost in our minds. plastering each and every Finger inside and out building the stage for hollow plays. forgiving Ourselves in one great epilogue this is pathetic dialogue. swimming In phrases waiting for placement reciting directions to a bleeding Heartland. where masks are skin sewn shadows fed to tyrants the Noise of drums beats down our existence to nothing. these bastards Are forced to grin and bear it we are all cursed with ease this pathetic Dialogue has turned into my epilogue i apologise for nothing
