A riot,
fear faceless.
We’re running through the masses.
A mystic,
for profit.
Think we nearly lost it.
The symptom,
the superficial.
You’re waiting on the useless.
The flare,
hope status,
getting through the flashes.
Lets wait for the rains to come.
Fake men,
are plastic.
Strengthen with these lashes.
This fire,
consumes,
the littlest of you.
Lets wait for the rains to come.
I think the fun has just begun.
