May 13, 2006

Past midnight

A king's ransom for the soul of thieves
The trenches are overflowing with muddy blood
The wicked witch is an illusion
Made real by tragedy
It's 3 past midnite
And we are on the verge of making the most significant discovery
The meaning of life is that there is no meaning
We live in repetition
History recycled
Events revised
Existence remixed
I am retiring to the streets
But only for summer nights
Freeing the physical of man-made luxuries is not made for winter
It's 5 past midnite
That's enough irrelevance for one nite

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