Coughing blood into the well...
Wishing for new lungs to breathe through...
Because this air that surfaces...
Is not apart of my home...
...
I've seen Idols claim a being,
Someone who may have never existed...
And reign over the weak like they mean something...
Like their words are forest fires...
Burning everything in its path...
"Why is thou an arsonist through thy tongue?"
You make the wind migrate...
...
Hiding from the false kings...
When the real ones are buried in stone...
Memories of greatness,
Comes in silence.