Old Sparky...

You can't exert your will in no man's land,
When your only pursuit is survival,
Deranged poetic notes is a fight no one could withstand,
Death is no more an unholy rival.
When the fetish chamber contradicted the gruesome dungeon,
After all these generations you failed to pass an non stereotyped judgement...

Draped in a garish choice of words,
Lust fornicated the wrong town,
Your follies still mock your emptiness after all these years,
The walls of all bricks of good terms have been broken down.
Your threshold of pain has worn out by dusk,
A great deal of misfortune did not strike you only because you thought it must...

We're vexed with treachery,
Sick of damage,
Waiting for alchemy,
Formulated by the daily greats.
Bankruptcy has has fought the halo of no holy man,
Somewhere within the world of pain was an inkling of your own plan...

There has been no truce of that blatant kind of chaos,
A self thought angel to end their sufferings,
Wallowing has been know to mock the morrows ethos,
The exaggerated mystic pain that glamorises the starlings.
So though I feel demented it's actually because I'm dull,
For this is the very passage when the frolic does not swirl...

Let the impulses of love fill my heart,
Hormones of rational judgement be one with my bloodstream,
Let a normal state of mind vanquish any kind of shock,
A skit of black magic leave my dreams.
May the enzymes of good fortune rain upon us from paradise,
Punish them whose life was designed for a sacrilege union they wanted to jeopardise...