Friday, January 4, 2013

Creeping Shadows


the shadows creep slowly
The road home is long
the bass has all but faded
we loiter to carry on

the letters still wet
plastered upon plastic walls
feeling nothing but prowess
echo a helicopter’s call

this is war
for the art we defend
the consequence of all-
in a life we never lend

it is the song of an alpha
the verse of king
in the shadows of a voice
with words that none ever sing

never backing down
but knowing when to run
in the blue hour of memory
snapping as the recoil of a gun

like the pawns in some game
hidden within this fa├žade
as ants are to men
as men are to god

like some twisted folk hero
some cheap marionette
hiding in plain sight
where we check and then bet

make no mistake in this game
the stakes will run high
the end is always the same
across the river where they lie

the song carries on
silently in the night
with the words of my hands
sitting just out of sight 

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