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Drifter/Prometheus
10:51
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Drifter
Lie down in your bed,
Breathe the burdens that bind you.
All these thoughts in your head
Are the things that define you.
Feel not ashamed to break.
Feel not afraid to throw away, drifter.
Sick of paying a toll, (and you beg your mind to be unbroken)
Your eyes spill to the shock as it
Pours on your soul (and your thoughts are met and filled with poison)
You kept the cure in your pocket.
Feel not ashamed to wait.
Feel not afraid to retain, drifter.
(May your right hand forge anew, snuff your anger.
What was once lost is found, bite the splinter.
Don't let thoughts cloud your head.
Don't let the memories of the sounds pull you down.)
Prometheus
No rain fell on the day I died.
No clergy mourned and no loved ones cried.
It was a bitter thing I tasted;
To catalog all I've wasted.
Stood to anger, taken down by pride.
A beauty ate me from the inside.
I held fire, I misplaced it;
And cataloged all I've wasted.
Cold fire, come raining down.
Emancipate; Free the bound!
A tragic rush on underground
Has called for choir, for any sound.
Feel no emotion;
Bleed no blood, no.
Feel no emotion;
This is my headstone.
I'll lay you gently down upon my prose.
The flames of hindsight burned into my clothes.
A voice whispers, "Weep for all you know;
And catalog all you've wasted."
Rebirth from the mound,
Prometheus; What's lost is found!
A tragic rush on underground
Has called for choir, for any sound.
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Ghosts of Virtue Denton, Texas
Zachary Kusch is some 23 year old with recording equipment and a messiah complex that no one can honestly attest to liking and he's pathetically attempting to capitalize on his proclivity of writing music and deserves to die unloved and in ambiguity.
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