please dont pull this dagger from my back i want the whole world to have a place to
hang their hats and watch the shadows wilti want the whole world to pull up roots
from the earth like veins from the belly of revelation i want to fly these abused
skies and take the grand tour of armageddon looking thru a dead saints eyes strip
the king of his crown and melt it down to mold me shackles where ill remain chained
in contempt by the failure of what a ruler dreamt when his eyes closed and reopened
dead with poems of apocolypse carved into his head i wake up dazed from the summers
heat and find the carvers knife laying at my feet i am the author of tomorrow , i
am the inkwells plea for featherpens i am 100 needles sewing the sun undone(and
selling fire one flame at a time) close your eyes and dream and tell forever that
im coming to steal his 9 to 5