A soul is just a myth that sparks life
Weather through alchemy
Or a fire at night
That churns deep under lune in wombs
When you lustfully groove
Creating something nobody knew
Until they were born to you

And become unbecoming
In a dubious battle
On the plains of doom

But it will be said by men
Who seek life to the end
That you need the poise of a god like man
And to symbolize self
In three dimensional scriptures one can feel
Cause words materialize whats real
When from various eyes
The rest will be subdued by fear

Those left will be directors of death
While frazzle bearded men
Bless with their whiskey soaked breath
And then release arrogant air
To cause caticlismic ventures
In ever town near
The catalyst of catastrophe
Won't need a stimulant
To simulate flames there
And a colossal amount of muscle
By storm winds when they pound in

With a theory of petulant doves
Bursting into candle lit love
Hopefully drenching the earth
Clean, no dirt or curse
But romantic thoughts then burn
Like brimstone does to paper
So much so, cinder is jealous
And smoke envious of its vapor

Because the intent of some
Is the some of our worth
When your only seen in the sun
Its hard to imagine with the moon you turn
To a morphed mongrel of slums
Only to regenerate from with in
When stricken with broke back rest
Just know death has no friends
And a corpses choir
Are only bones in harmony