gods and horses bow at your feet, but not if i get to them first
you’re bringing out the shotgun while i’m wheeling in the hearse
burning me down, like i’m a house made of sticks
you want your door to be stone, but it’s not even bricks
the dogs of hell bound to your brimstone ideals
your intellect like a nude experience, all you know is to feel
like a baby adorned with chrysanthemum thoughts
like a sniper exclaiming, “now take your shot!”
we’re so alike, but only when you want to be
the winds of my emotion not allowed to go free
till our politics permit us to forgive the other’s presence
our eyes are the very nature of our essence
i look in the mirror, i want to kill you idols
but murder’s bad enough, let alone suicidal
i’ll miss you when you’re out destroying our fates,
the citizens of utopia burning down its gates
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