razorblade

All is quiet, except for this song.
So maybe while I'm not together I contend I'm not alone.
And somewhere off in the distance, rapidly advancing, is an onslaught of sorts.
Young sirens wail in a skewed sense of glory
And the lions in their cages roar in a memory of fight.

And there is a joy, a joy in all I can see.
A joy, in every possibility.

And all around us is a great, great failing.
American rockets red glare in a most disgusting triumph.
And in passing, I am asked, "Do you believe in a God?"
I give no answer, I continue to get high.
In this terror of no explanation, I am looking for a faith,
My panic is an only reason.

There is a joy, a joy in all I can see.
A joy, in every possibility.