Nothing is parallel or can be paralleled

Even when it is compounded, and expounded inside

It rages loud but gently in rib cages,

Behind hushing skinny fingers

Its beauty is too great, its beauty belongs to us

The formers, the creators of this place

We are the damned, we were the great

 

Oh the facade, it is all a facade they mimic the art

But can you take the cut, bleed it out, and dare to be adorned?

Dare to wear this coat, draw this permanent ink to the bone?

 

Just think, how pretty could the sky be if it didn’t bleed?

At dawn, could the light piece through if the curtains were never drawn?

Decreased, shrunk back, nullified from every place

Some have to take the plunge, accommodate that space,

Some have to bear the taste

Some have to receive, the brunt that comfort brings

Because of the beauty, it stretches to every extremity

Inescapable, from raw umber to hickory

They echo so much mockery, there is no victory

A stamp has been erased from your memory

We are young, we are today’s history