The Rifle's Spiral
Dead lungs command it
You pour your life down the rifle's spiral
And show us you've earned it.
Cleric's fog will recede right before your eyes.
So long to this wretched form.
Them gray eyes on the subway
Long before you were born
You were always to be a dagger floating
Straight to their heart.
Listen, now, we won't tell anyone.
But you're gonna tell the world.
So life ain't been any fun
Now your viscera unfurls
As you rise; rise from your burning fiat,
Go, go get my suitcase, would you?
You've thoroughly blown their mind.
And now I must have passage home
Your life's two veins from your heart
You're not invisible, now.
You just don't exist.
Your mother must be so proud.
You sublimate yourself, granting us a wish
Primitive mural on the wall
to fortify your grim resolve.
And made the glitz of a shopping mall
Another grain of indigent salt for the sea
Go back to this wretched form
All them gray eyes on the subway
So long before you were born
you were always to be a dagger floating
straight to their heart.