BT010: Blessed Be Thy Flame

Ten-past the clock strikes collapse
Another product of bipolar judgement lapse
My grand time has come, 4/20/10
Let the spotlight glow upon me, again

The prodigal son will cut and run
Hung out to dry in the desert sun
With a loaded rifle, and her brain full of johnnies
Not a single person on-site that could stop me

Cuffed to the bottle, no shadow of doubt
I watched the flight of the red flags march out
Flash quick to concrete, death and despair
I’m your culture war conscript - say when, say where

Pick your own battles, they say so I choose -
Rebounding off the guard-rails on interstate news
Durandal was laughing, or so did it seem
Another chapter into the experience machine

Three stripes to concrete, three arrows to boot
No fan of the circus, but the point is moot
Can’t breathe in this mask, can’t see where I’m going
Virality of lens so utterly undoing

You can’t always help, but you can always break
Emotions in half for the good of the weak
For the good of the people, for the good of my neighbor
Flanked by destruction, addiction, isolation and labor

When that arctic base melts down for the crowd
They’ll drink from it’s river, eons from now
They’ll water their crops, build rivers and ports,
But for early adopters, a rifleman’s retort.

Through the tunnel and tracks, beyond the tree-line
Lies damaged firepit number 1-1-2-5
Consecrated in loyalty, abolished by name
You’re within me now - blessed be thy flame.