Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

More wood for the fire

And silver hells
Come crashing down
In perfect sound
While blistering
And festering
Some solemn prey
On holiday.

They always stare
But do not care
And crying falls
Can crumble walls
But destiny
Don't mess with me
So deadly rage
I am so caged
I cannot breathe
I only seethe.

October 27, 2007

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More wood for the fire

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