S

Vasopressors united – blood pressure ignited. Its good to be home for a while.
And yet its strange to covet the obvious.

A wounded spear we are, yes sir.
A recollection of unborn fetishes through the looking glass of rage.
Rage for all we have lost, all we never had.
Rage for every paycheck that kills us.
For every savior that tricked us, for every fiend that loved us. For every word that defined us.
Rage for the longing, rage for the lusting, a collage of rage.
And we are not amused anymore..

The anonymous undead we are, yes sir.
A reanimation of dreams minced through the vise of your wallet.
A cardboard circus of compatibility. A jagged line.
Jagged by our rhythmic cries of boredom.
By our paper masks and wooden frowns.
Jagged by our malice, jagged by our greed, jagged by our dementia.
And this time you have crossed the line..

A carnival of lust we are, yes sir.
A rusty mahogany stain in your collective backsides.
A symphony of anguish, a song queued for too long. A rhapsody of absurdness.
A deranged battle-cry. A blue butterfly.
Blue from our sins and golden cages. Blue from our salty tears.
Blue from all we craved and all we vanquished. Blue from suffocation.
And we are not colorblind you know..

A puzzle of checkered flags we are, yes sir.
A black and white abomination, staunching your digestion.
A legion of deck cards waiting to be played.
Waiting for the last roll, for YOUR end credits.
Waiting for the agony of consumption, waiting for the adrenaline.
Waiting to live again, to love without limits.
And we have waited for ages..

You nursed us, you watered us, you broke us.
For every sequence there is a consequence.
You abused us, you amused us, you raped us.
What goes around comes around.
You made us, you loved us, you killed us.
Causality is a bitch, ain’t it?
You whore us, you wore us, you tore us.
And now you bore us.

So take heed, we are coming for you.
We played along TOO fucking long,
This game is over.
Run