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Harper Roy Death Or Glory Man Kind Down in the deep recesses Of my torture I am spreadeagled by it Watching the knife Slowly going in Exposing my naked Thumping heart And I shed a tear For a grey sky My executioner is masked I try to take a deep breath As she rips the aorta Hoping that she also rips My lungs or windpipe So that I can play her The final power chord Of my last intake Straight into her face The tear running down mine Will be the last thing I feel Before I awake To collect my shreaded dreams From around the universe In which they'd been strewn |
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