Drips and dribbles, down my Heart,
Black and burning, full of Art.
Serpentine, the flow unstopped
Scalds me through, then does it part.
Kneeling by this pool of blood,
Nobody’s, but my hands are red.
And gasping out a word too late,
I quench my thirst with all I shed.
O’er rises then, the Sun sublime,
To watch me set, before my time.
And rosy skies are witnesses,
Of Life; sold, all for a dime.
Why must there be a reason to
These lands, green, and waters, blue?
When man in all his glory, does,
Shape heavens out of thoughts askew?
Letting free the melodies,
And raising high the raging seas,
Darting past that glistening star,
What got you, trampling vows and pleas?
For now, that ages full, are spent;
The more you wail and more repent.
Yet, hear those verses play again,
Helpless; as they, you, dement.
What last is hope, what last a way?
Or are you lost, lost is your day?
A gaze wild, and drunken too,
Will last do, your tale, betray.
