Empty Songs

Lyrics of infirmity, self loathing misticism
Songs formed in matter, limited by fear

Just another million throats tattered
Torn by the facility of sorrow

Hearts entangled by sloth
Yet wishing for pity

Sing, sing the empty songs
In your unconcious acquiescence
And cry... cry like an abandoned child
It's the silence of yourself that dabs you
Dabs you bare-eared, naked, true
Like an adult
Who in the end, unfortunatly,
Is always right

Holding an ineffable rebuke
And always right