a beginning war descends on this homespun world,
a spectacle of lights and picture sounds enveloping, developing
the last looks of last days that have ended abruptly as the past stays
to haunt the remnants of the supposedly dropped and forgotten, although
now to say it's all coming back, in a new shade of light and with profoundest regret
i hate to inform you that it's not quite over yet.
who am i to be so taken back by the boundless multitudes in parade of
evidence against my case? it's damning stuff, it pierces soul with its
pointed remarks, its empty charades: and there's the rub, in a blaze of glory:
it never troubles so it be known what fear decides is there to know.
o, fearsome spark of creative force: to you, whom I'm indebted to, I fear to open myself
so you would violate me with your vicious wit and calculated cynicism.
all that's left to bear is distraction's friendly, gentle ear: I'll whisper softly, murmur close until I forget
all of that there is to care of
and as eyes roll their way into the back my head,
I'll drift away dead on an empty cloudbed.
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