Thursday, December 10, 2015

Life Under the Saffron Sign

In the direction of Zion
Here are the mountains of the moon.
Everything sings a sad love song,
Sad because songs produce no love

Only more sad and lonely songs
Of endlessly feeling sorry
For the singer. Her throat's a torch.
We were born into a contract

That guaranteed a debt no god
Nor benefactor could repay.
What are we saving our selves for?
The end of the world's drawing near,

Monster always getting closer,
Oh now, oh now, oh never here.

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