Our sky, she's full of lights, glinting through all that dark, uncaring
The Rats on the Moon are shielding their eyes, against the creeping, the crawling
All that so-called useless DNA
Sharp colours teased to a gleam
Doesn't matter?
Refracted inaction
remains inaction
This cursed recursive loop?
Pure comedy
Soon ye shall be razed in flame
Ha!
How does that fire feel climbing up your back?
Still grabbing with those thieving little hands?
So we strive to lift up our heads against the nowhere, before you blot out Mother's summersphere
One fist may resolve nothing, but many fists shall knock you flat
One projection may be simple refraction, but many, well, they equal reaction
Those ears of yours just picked up a sneaky peal of thunder
Are you ready for the lightning to strike?
Are you?