Saturday, April 15, 2006

a relic of the warrior age gone demon dream

a relic of the warrior age
gone black in a demon dream
a thousand pointed footprints left circling the scene
the long ago came creeping in behind the misspent lives
and as daggers brandished tell tall tales
theres a fabric torn to skew the scale

in borrowed skin and misery
the homes you've grown to dispise
the filth and frost of loves embrace
the perfect piece of saving grace

your never further than few feet from
the whiskey lipstink of the ill fated bum
and the promises you've broken out number those you've kept
so the blackness in your heart is enveloped in regret

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