The Murderous

lost to news reports of dead presidents and bad evidence
the killer wakes up and cracks a smile
moves about unscathed by worry in his residence
empty, save for the kittens
providence, a word reserved for those with power
he calls it sister before hitting the shower
he dials the digit of his latest pencil pushing squeeze
a way to stay ahead of the front page
a way to let loose before the night locks the cage
the beast revealed, he walks through walls and water falls
unknown to all calamity that befalls the world around him
he kills for the thrills, not to pass the time
nor to answer the darkling calls
a life lived for killing is all but kind
swollen tongues and papered war drums litter the earth
cigars of rolled up ideologies and past present timelines
hold up your candle for the dead three
pestilence, famine and war
lost to the long forgotten words of a promising species
rewind
begin again as we move forward with scenarios
a man walks into a bar and kills the sicario
the man that lives to kill men is killed by chance
burnt to cinders by the world he built
a crimson error in the great horror we live in
all for a drink and a dance
a boy walks into a classroom and kills the teacher
a father, a brother, the one they called preacher
a man with stories of his own
barren words filled with curtain calls and the midas touch
ashes to ashes, lust to dust
the boy knew enough to start a life
laced with words like crime and punishment
our world is born of strife
he knew enough to make a choice
to pull the trigger and train his voice
praised by some, abhorred by the rest
we are what we are, everything else is just a test
power is poison
news reports and we’ve come full circle
to a time lost in chaos and thunder
in a world of lies and short double dusted chocolate hateccinos
sip your darkness, drink your patience
as you feed on the great garden machine, a man watches you
waiting
he’ll crack a smile, walk over and ask for the time
what you say determines your future
what you say reveals your true nature
it’s fading
overwhelming isn’t it?
to know the end drips dangerously off your words
time falls feverishly off our chords
providence is a no show
so be sure to fly this kite solo
a life lived for killing is all but kind
yeah, this and that is all well and fine
naturally, by your design

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