Sistine
Even darkness came not from the dark
Even sharpness came not from the blade
But from all that would break it, afraid
As they were of the spark, yes
Afraid as they were of the dark.
Death did not come from itself, no
It did not arise and swallow us whole
For death is merely a rest stop
A halfway house in the dead drop
A place between burning and cold
A place between owning and sold.
A gateway joining souls young and old
Is a bridge that's worth burning I'm told
For each generation's insistence
Is that all the others were senseless
That conformity is the new bold
That the past is best left in the cold.
And everything crumbles to dust
Diamonds turn fragments as ore becomes rust
For none of us stand for a thing
No one is armed with a stone and a sling
As ignorance is the new trust
Tolerance is the new just.
Political correctness became the new right
Safety in numbers, right became might
Strength of arms, loudest voices
Now the blacksmiths of choices
And the armor we wear is too light
One blow and we're out of the fight.
Life now a pointless purveyor
A foolishly hopeful surveyor
Selling well-packaged half-truths
As we lustily gaze from the roof
Our hearts, the unspeakable traitors
Our hopes became our betrayers.
Nothing makes sense in this push and shove
Save the idea that this clay that we're made of
Still holds a spark of resistance
Still hopes that the whole of existence
And all that is spinning therein and thereof
Is kept holding on by your love, by your love.
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