The lash is on itâs golden nail inside the masterâs house
Itâs not needed now, dreams are working for the nonce
But that lash, is being taken down theyâve thrown bones enough
And donât love to hear us whine
Some refused to sign
Some lit themselves on fire
In the labyrinth cities
Endless rooms
The economic chain
In the endless rooms, heads dancing in their tombs
The hairless apologists, cook their schemes
Aspect of the leech
War lines to my home
Rust to gleaming chrome
The lionâs share, the lionsâ share their kill
The system drinks unknowing, blindly draining all and we are all itâs cells
The bloodless routine evil, greying cloud of working
Hydras head grown back
Every daughter, every one, every motherâs son
The knives in their upward stab
I do no good, I hold them by the blade
Thatâs how I was made
The towers never show their roots, yet underground
The dwelling of the low
Wanting, grasping souls
To the middle bricks we are
Worth, shallow
Not enough, never enough, donât give up, I give up