Ink in a Harpoon
Ink in a Harpoon1 min 332 1 min 332
Did we not see?
Our principles murdered, on the last street
Stabbed by our pride, not once, a thousand times, each one of them
Did we not taste?
The sour of doom, waiting to be swallowed,
Wanting to collude with our destiny, to singularity
Did we not feel?
Our sanity rubbing the craze, or was it hysteria?
Flapping wings of wisdom floating us down
Did we not sense?
The ominous odour of dogma, razing us
And our saviours in shackles, in chapels
Did we not hear?
The whispers of abyss, calling out
To all of us, brothers and sisters holding hands
Descending into nothingness.