An Evening With Morning Star (Act. II) - I, Omega

The executed have all moved on

still I struggle in a shallow grave

screaming at the impotent that

put me here

I am not whole

from watching the soil spread

solemn faces

the earth embraces

each grain represents every bit of doubt that spills out of me

I’m choking on the words that can’t be released

only rough skin remains

where my mouth used to be

it was condemned all the goddamn years ago when I still had pride

call it off, call it off I have nothing to say

If this body’s just a coffin I will choose when it lays

We’re all just dying to plot our graves

serving ourselves a bit of grace on our own terms

ignoring what we’ve learned

waste not what you’ve earned

I pray more than the faithful

repent more than atoned

I’ve been deemed a skeptic by every atheist I know

yet I still can’t find meaning in this world

I mourn him as he won’t find worth

eight eyes radiate desires of four hearts ever calling out two shoulders hold

up the one burden they couldn’t help

call it off, call it off I have nothing to say

If this body’s just a coffin I will choose when it lays

We’re all just dying to plot our graves

serving ourselves a bit of grace on our own terms

ignoring what we’ve learned

waste not what you’ve earned

burning up burning up there’s a fire in me

from a devil on my shoulder that seeks empathy

protect the sinner fuck the saint

not finding peace just disdain

how can you say we’re meant to be this way

when you’re living in an hourglass and you can’t seem to find the time to change

I refuse to go quietly

if I’m going to hell at least that means you’re in heaven holding her head and

making excuses for a father who couldn’t

when I die I hope you see them picketing my funeral

screaming at the top of their lungs

at least then you’ll know that they make the world a bitter place

I left the world a better place to call home

call it off, call it off I have nothing to say

If this body’s just a coffin I will choose when it lays

We’re all just dying to plot our graves

serving ourselves a bit of grace on our own terms

ignoring what we’ve learned

waste not what you’ve earned

burning up burning up there’s a fire in me

from a devil on my shoulder that seeks empathy

protect the sinner fuck the saint

not finding peace just disdain

how can you say we’re meant to be this way

when you’re living in an hourglass and you can’t seem to find the time to

change.