|
pile of dead water, washing this way and that
Frightening and empty, a dead man's hand
A stilted perception, a stunted paint brush
Hollow, the opposite of life, superimposed
Over a wall of death, leads one to the conclusion
That the weather must turn, one of these days
Before the ordinary rain comes, and the
Summer tension subsides for a while.
The seas always gives up its dead, oh
Thats what they say, or, so they say
Little fishes, little fishes
Still have sharp teeth
Your just made of metal
I turn you at angles
To look at what you see
But you dont have eyes
And you dont mean anything
Youre just fucking dead
You were never alive.
__________________
"Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate,
for all things are plain in the sight of Heaven. For nothing
hidden will not become manifest, and nothing covered will remain
without being uncovered."
The Gospel of Thomas
|