So this is the sound that murder makes:
|
A cobweb sigh
|
enough to shut my eyes
|
and make me wish this wasn't new to me
|
|
So this is the sound that murder makes:
|
The hum of hope
|
the buzz of neck and rope
|
that speaks up when the public finds its prey
|
|
It took some time
|
to settle in
|
brief introductions were made:
|
blade to skin
|
eye contact too
|
right at the end
|
I saw a wolf dressed like a friend
|
Death at first sight,
|
sleep at the end of the longest night,
|
I always thought I’d fight
|
I never thought you’d
|
|
Send me bleeding on my way
|
smashing things to fill the garbage temple where we shared rent
|
you left hands and feet to pay
|
but we can't cash them in anywhere
|
|
So I became a bank
|
a steel fort of endless funds
|
|
So this is the sound that murder makes:
|
the sum of soot
|
the fear of what's afoot
|
the realization that your heart's astray
|
|
So this is the sound that murder makes:
|
the number-punching thunder that the fists of protocol obey
|
|
Maybe it’s true
|
maybe we only sang one song
|
maybe we’re first place in a zombie marathon
|
but now there’s a sound ? a symphony of suffering
|
spit from the throat you slit
|
and we’re writing our names in it
|
|
Now I’m a razor blade
|
I am a pile of pills
|
a hand without a heart
|
and what doesn’t bleed cannot be ---
|
|
-----------------
|
The Fists Of Protocol
|
| Gruvis Malt |
