Hair crawling atop your neck
round the bend, general panic
raise the stakes, up the antes let us start a war
the protector of this castle lays buried on that hill
by name we soon forget as the weight colapses without air on our chest
a disregard for what we want in exchange for what they got and boy do we care.
boyhood outgrown purpose, trampled upon with intent
the very same son, the very same blade we sharped
just good business for we are not animals.
to wrestle bread before hunger swallows us both, what a fraud
a peculiar charade tasting rather off
a slaver stings with discontent in a manner
where the gutting perseved lost is taxing
anxiety is put to rest
we are all overdue the reckoning
a fitting match to the sinking feeling some carry
with abiding breath.
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