dreamers die without a vision of the last breath deep shallow face crooked and sallow expression of rhyme out of beat never on time for the market place to open and close a revolving door of perception no one agrees who should stay on their knees capping the suppression endless revolution of inception deception death where serfdom lies between the nether skies where music soars the preacher bores huff and puff quick grows the weed of greed need feed the radiation of the background rumbling around the sound wall between nowhere and their forty-two fears don’t thank a thing don’t think anything about the meaning between the words for the birds sing a song of freedom sounding like a car alarm foreboding harm to everything that doesn’t matter. I’m ready.
