Gord

2026-06-18 02:34 pm

The point is the point, 
Boys will be boys, 
The noise: Serpentine, 
Like around me it coils. 

I ask my father, what he knows... 

His axe to grind is my axe to grind,
Consequence, why my ass is fine.
But who dies I'll never choose,
I'll never have the chance to try.

The noise, deafening, and wide.
Like it surrounds me,
And I planned to hide.

As the waves they overtake me,
I realize everyone has to die,
Grandfather's axe was never mine, 
And nothing comes after,
A modern dance to time.