Gord

2025-02-11 07:33 am

To the final, pathetic, vocal squeal:
Drum trials, pathos in guitar steel,
Reference, for the crowd to cheer.

What is gone, but was never there?
What is a woman? Complacent?
Like God, you take a bucket,
Drown her in rainwater, 
It remains clear. 

Her body is still good for fucking. 
His money is still good for fucking, 
Her body is still good for fucking,
Nothing.

Ink then vinyl, out into the real,
Drum trial, pathos to the feeling,
Defence for the crowd that cheers.

What is gone, but was never there?
Magic, you chose a career,
Not a life path.

Defend that! 

Missives you can't recite back,
Missiles, like knives to the back,
Missing like writing upon a staff. 

Music was a mistake in the end,
Mythic, like an axe upon a head,
Without your controller in hand,
What is gone, but was never there?