Crimson
Deep within the windowpanes
The potpourri of soldier\'s eyes
Some fighting for the darkness, the others for the light
Night and day are one in the same
Shades of grey are what lie behind the name
Blood lines, co-mingling
It takes much more than white power to win in this game
Copulation with the youth
Unmarred flesh above the flowing iron that remains pure
The truth that lies behind the surface is more likely ancient than it is pristine
They are committing hideous crimes
The truth is most often sublime, hiding loosely in the shadows
Behind locked doors
It is not as though their practices cause a ruckus or a scene
I actually feel for them
The demons that they have took upon themselves to draw from another dimension
From an abyss
An eye for an eye
Terminal bliss
There is this lady who posts home made videos on You Tube who I keep losing track of because they keep blocking her
She came to me from out of the blue
She spawns my interest for playing \"sleuth\"
I cannot, will not ever get too much of the truth
She tells it all as if it were nothing
Like everyone is aware
Those who remain clueless, do so accordingly
Alongside of the fact that they really could care the fuck less about their lives at all
The fall of the Angels is not merely a point in history
It is a continual, gradual, suffocating metamorphosis
It tries to remain hidden by the senseless need for more, more, more...
The Whore of Babylon rules over this world
The queen who has reign over the entire chaotic tapestry that has been draped over our each and every waking move
Nothing to prove
It is not even hiding
Its mannerisms are blatant and raw
Like the caw of the ravens that Hecate keeps
Scattered all over the atmosphere that surrounds an immortal womb
Primordial wrath awakened long ago when a group of foolish archaeologist\'s invaded a sacred Egyptian pharaohs tomb
A plague was unleashed upon them
Swimming into their blood lines
A sonic boom in the ethereal plane
Who is anybody to decide what is auspicious and what is our bane?
The Great Lion\'s mane upon the coats of arms that hang proudly on British Royal walls
Blowing in the silent winds that are conjured up as Mother Nature calls
Blood lines intercepting with a force that has strength far beyond any known to mortal man
A dim-witted plan, formulated in the dark ages of the ago
It has never come anywhere near fruition and it most certainly never will
This is the final stand
Seeing eye to eye
Everyone joining hands
The good
The bad
The ugly
Everyone is one
We are all different, yet all so much the same
Forgive now all of your forefathers
Forget about your shame.....
6/12/2012