armada

a withered flower
a smoky ashen timber
a deflated ballon
now soon
am i
destined for sleepyworlds
where immortal giants slay the
bodies left strewn and screaming
from this uphill battle
racing toward the last step
i took
and here in this world of noise
the ceiling fan
wrrrr...
and ac
roars like a disastrous carnivore
there is a blinking streetlight
and a headache creeping
the world at the door
and, 'nevermore'
or whatever
the morgue might be
my only respite
'a great notion'
but the dawn hides behind
the mountain
and there are bills to pay
and battle to rage
the armada of my aspirations
ill get em 1 by 1
and cats to kill
but thats no fun
its just what they say
for the getalong
whimpering there
at break of day
and 1 by 1 sun up
sun down
and i'm worn out
the revolution is almost over
for me
or you could say its,
almost here
and the prideful smile
ran out with the gas for now
and i'm all worn out
a withered flower
a smoky ashen timber
a deflated balloon
melting and dripping
to sleepylands
and demons
friends
i'll be there soon...