The Hallowed DesignsTo what are the designs for life?
To remain placid in our personal rebellions?
Or to have go out in the limb for the sake a greater good,
A selfless service that denies the internal machinery of bueracracy,
To have guts and heart in one go
Becoming educators of the masses, to bring out the noble Truth in all men.
For how far we have forsook this in our quest for the eternally hip,
Plastic refuse packaged to make you look and sound good,
The empty culture that makes us bloated with the fat of bellicose cynicism,
It only serves to please ourselves for a season,
The rest of the time it leaves dead in stagnant waters.
For here I present you all a greater sense of purpose outside these gilded doors,
Of the fresh air of a life more abundant in the open green fields,
A existence not calculated by church or state,
A freedom to be you and me,
A given right to think of our own logic,
Of Thomas Jefferson's path undefined by whatever bias of dogma,
Politics you might mu
Waterfront and Beyond1.
The sword screams its final end in bereavement.
The kingdom of rust from Bau to Ohio,
a working class tradition like scars on soldier.
the secrets of life in the sanctity of a empty chapel,
Me and the Lord riding out the motorcycle diary of eternity.
the radio weeps in the lonesomeness of a Main Bazaar night,
tranny hookers for some relevance in pale white moon.