| Current mood: |  artistic |
| Current music: | The String Quartet - Lucky |
Of Gods and men, and why they must truly be regretful
I now see the light
but the light don't see me,
Cause it's crimson, not golden
and dark as can be.
It brings all my fears,
and my troubles to face,
myself in the presence of
Gods in this place.
But these ones are dreary,
and followed by guilt, of
mistakes from a time
their society built.
I look up to their gazes,
and bury the past
to continue tomorrow,
my will iron-cast.
But the shackles of history,
bind every arm
of the Gods in this place
where we'be all come to harm.
My wrists now metallic,
I rue and lament
All these errors, misfortunes were
from heaven sent.
And now there's no light
for the cities we made.
We're just sinking your ships
with our holy grenade.
Gideon and Methias would never have been so proud, nor would they have been nearly as confused at the convoluted references and shady depictions of their personalities. In any case, there is no point to this besides the inherent need to update after an extended stint away from online activity.
Charlotte's world wide web, of silky threads and baited hooks,
lures countless millions in, with sparkles and vivacious looks.
Her lingering aroma, and figures of high download speed,
Leave victims in the crossfire, or prudence and alluring need.
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