There used to be a time when Sunday always looked sunny.
Felt like a pint in a gallon world, ain't that some shit? Now,
I'm a giant and the galaxy ain't ready for my words. I'm
Composite, complex, self-sufficient, and ignorant
(As are you and you and you and you)
Who sees this crucifix and tricks themselves its intent?
Malevolence and pain, pinned down incarceration
Never Hooked me, That infatuation is so curious indeed,
In practice tis such a furious hunger, insatiable, ne'er-ending,
For one can never truly feel as another, The Curse
is on the sentient! How Conciousness is flawed!
Oh well... hell doesn't sound much worse than this,
What matter is it?
Those last seconds define your life,
your last breath, the epilogue.
Be it Fogged in doubt, Your body will hunger for that knowledge,
Straining for that insight, that light, that hope:
Learn NOW! Don't persist to be that lazy dope,
Make questions and stick to the answers you find,
Reminiscence shouldn't be a crucifiction,
Don't let the comfort of the preacher become a restriction,
Lest ye lie awake and one day see fiction where once
Just was fact. There is no going back.
"There used to be a time..."
Last words of a dying man, in his white bed,
watching the rain beat down on the windowpane,
On a saturday....
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