We rust
Under the sun
Tasting time
And sucking guns
Aging wine
To paint Gods
Gouging eyes
In sick compromise
Praise the idiot
Burn the wise
But H
u
s
h
Because truth blands the beauty in lies…
And makes the little children cry
Cause wooden spoons spank their “why”
Hush
Hush
Hush
Is it really so hard to conceive…
The Wasp burned the money tree
Then told the sheep to blame the east
It took a green shit
Left behind
To feed
The blind
Never mind the smell
If you believe
It tastes fine
As does everything…
In time
(Open your fucking eyes…)
A shame
Knowledge of 9 means shit to the wise
© 2008 Wolfaerie
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/16835/106371 on Saturday July 19th, 2008 12:00 AM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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