Please stand back and give me air,
I swear that it was just right there.
Dark and dreary colors wear,
I stare at that which is not fair.
I’ll take a moment to remember:
forces gash and then dismember.
Visions of hot coal and ember,
though it was frigid, late December:
They tried to instill the poisoned notion of the illness called devotion,
So like that disembodied ocean, you bestow me such commotion?
Atop your ranks, enjoy attention, but one thing I’ve yet to mention:
Though you arrive with bad intention, you lurk and leave your rotten stench and
Under the mask of an orchestral band, you leave your weak flank too unmanned.
From pitied shards and frail white sand, that beaten boy begins to stand.
Bass drums screaming, trumpets blow, and leaves affliction weeping woe.
“Join my army as we grow. I’ve bullets to fire, grenades to throw.”
Children tremble, while whips may crack, my growing forces begin attack.
Your lyrical bullets, on which I now snack, lead my soldiers to Asia and back.
My nose points upward, as I feel fine; my quaint bureau with Margaux wine.
Surely you realize that this is a sign. Atlanta to Moscow, the planet is mine.
But alas I feel the icy ember,
Which I tried to not remember.
I feel my spirit now dismember,
The calendar reads: the 1st of December.