Greet the sunset, merry meet for you, my absent friends. Recall the times of need, when we eased the paths with our bows and arrows, when we were epic and strong, never should we thought of the fall. Cheered it all the way, while the blood of our brothers was being spilled in the grass by our own hands. We were nothing but objects, death machines design to kill or to be killed. And still then we laughed, resting in our bed of razors where we sold our souls every night, remembering of the killing that we've made. Savages we were called.
Every night the stars shined upon our faces, letting us know that they were on to us. But they didn't knew us, they hadn't the idea of the trouble that circles inside our minds, the sick bastards that we were until the day of judgement, in the foreign forest of the forgotten. Banned from Valhalla, we had no other place to go but to stay in the middle of the green pasts of the children's mind's, returning to nightmares unspoken to the human mortality. Blinded to the pain or just too dead inside, we carried on the murder of the Mother Earth until the end, always with a small smile in our face, a gun in an hand, a bottle of good old Whiskey in the other, until the day that the Goddess took you away.
Now time moves very quickly, not much is there to say, the old die, the young stay to get old, and me... well, I'm just another one of the members of this rotten society. Land a hand to drink for a while, forget your death in the war against yourselfs, ease the path into a better way of living.
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário