Suffering a pendulum, a curve in every frame.
Wicked arcs in times of strife leave all her victims lame.
Silenced is the slow regard of light that heals and learns,
What is close to home and heart all withers as it burns.
Spinning in a circle tight - builds height with every round.
Slowly, slowly, paper thin, find spiral in the sound.
Weariness and wonder on a pilgrimage to you,
Which order will they arrive in to remake this anew?
Open up the treasure chest inside our head and soul.
Organize the tears in place and backfill every hole.
Our dance is an explosion - it burns and heals and sings.
Our flickering duality whispers of sacred things.
Frozen in the glowing strobe and its grinning godhead,
Force-fed dreams of suicide bordered by golden thread.