The dogma sits and begs for scraps
wagging it's tale back and forth
like it's done a hundred times
At this point in time; PETA would be furious with us
If we ever were to reach him at the gates.
What was a temple now is just a bad slam cafe
Where hound-dogs headline with their swan song
Thinking a masterpiece can just be summoned
under the looming shadow of death
Most nights the regulars just spin a tired metaphor
Fire and horns; sure as your born
a sinner. Same syllables bouncing off the peeling paint chips
can't keep up with this changing world
Don't they know sex sells- or at least the carnage of a train wreck
could catch the eye of a lost sheep
her howls to the moon outside a condemned soul house
are greeted by a cold
SHUT THE FUCK UP I'M TRYING TO SLEEP
WITH A STRANGER
it's more of an afterthought than a forgotton lie
or a hidden truth.
and we only resort to it when we're sure it doesn't exist
Mostly we just live in an eternal autumn
Wearing masks, sitting beneath psalm trees
gathering loose leaves from old books..
..thrown together in a hole-filled tarp
to return to dust for the winter.
Mostly we try to fuck the stars with a goliath spire
Our unsteadied rifles spilled first oil
Mother Nature shouldn't dress like that; so beautiful
so... calling to be conquered
We'll stay building an eternal colossus
warnings fall on deaf ears
like mortar bricks on empty heads
This will be the new(est) testament
to Mankind's limitless capacity
for perfection
and fault
we all aspire to greatness
endless cycles of ambition
but history repeats itself, apparently..
While we shine the plaque of Ozymandias
we babylon about
trying to
touch
God.