Drought, Famine, Sword
Poem By Not The Pilot
your burdens are murderers, liars, and thieves
and i'm an accomplise to everything they need
i've become that person, that even i run from
the world and i, are scoping out slaughters
so fathers guard your daughters
how can i take the world, when i'm the world itself?
i've prayed to go to heaven, but stuck in hell
hypocrisy has me beat
the senseless saying, 'you never find what you're looking for'
what a horror show
is that what you call a scream?
is that really wanting saving?
the victimization, the consumption
the death-defying defeat, the murder of the sun
if these walls could talk, your ears would bleed
until the shrieking stopped, you would never sleep
i watch the paint peel, revealing these secrets
the i've kept hidden so well
and i'm staying here
they'll have to slide my bones off of this chair
i'm biting the bullet, i've laiden with lies
my stories more decieving than the devils eyes