EMETIC TOXOPHILITE.

Watching the reels go round
Playing another dirge on which we place
All the hopes of a broken heart
There is never any chance to change.

And your mother knows she played her part
Tempered the steel so it wouldn’t give
Broke the heroes so they couldn’t rise
Cast aspersions on the good and the meek
Making a baby, a man to be.

But role after role, filled with desire
Believing the destiny fed by the hour
Goodness knows why an inalienable right
Has to be broken for a game all cant play
Prey death beyond the graves we cry.

If you ask, where do we go from here
The answer wont be quite what you expect
You pull the trigger, taking the life of breath
Not expecting to die not this time
But taking away the props to existence
Only pushes you closer to drop (the fall).

In a warm wet circle, bright red with fear
You see the hunger and satiate it
Its only when you are in it that you
Make sense of it, just a reactionary
Claiming inspiration from ages old
Just for the record this empty gesture
Has no bounds, come see this land.

Its too late, its too far, much too far
The edge is reached and still no reprise
Pushing ever closer to drop
Never question, no never stop
Always the maiming, striving harder
Hating those who seek to wreak
Cause to cease this slaughter, this slaughter.

Whether they will or whether they wont
Who knows I don’t know how to stop it
There’s anger on the telephone and maniacs on street corners
Toting their guns and rights and flouting ours instead.

GRUM