Tree Bellies and the Masker's Underside.

Exhaling deeply beneath the rose blossom tides
like a hurricane of sugarcane coating the land with sprinkles.
How beautiful the cold shadows touch wanes as the horizon once again rises.
Throw up your arms, throw down your hands, Hold them in each other’s.
Reevaluate the life, Reevaluate the love, Reevaluate yourself into redemption.

The crimson wings of a siren’s last note as she entices the men on that boat.
The crashing of the waves, and clunks of the wood meeting steel.
Their faces so bitter, so haunting, and so daring, Their wings marking such freedom.
How beautiful to be so strong, yet a moral is what they’ll become.
Ugly on the outside portraying their souls, how murder treats demons so kindly.

On top of the world, with just an ocean in your hand. You’re creating a rainstorm over Beijing.
Sit down  a while on this Cloud 9, Dance away your fears, and let yourself be free.

In the darkest manners of on the ravines of the uprooted forests suspended in air
lies the mechanics to keep so many humans alive. A resinating forest, a new found goal.
Driving on a small suburban road staring up at the root structures and beauty of tree bellies.
Would you test your luck, and hope a cable doesn’t snap, when looking at this danger.
Some call it a thrill of the a lifetime, but seriously guys, Trees don’t like revenge,
yet look at yourself and tell yourself. Do trees have a reason to seek revenge?

The unicorns are just horses with horns, and mermaids are just scaley women,
but have you seriously ever tried to read a tree or do you just expect them to die?
Trees are people too, Trees are living breathing things that portray themselves as statues.
How pathetic does it have to get, to know that you’re doing genocide in the environment.
We are the disease, we are the famine, we are the creators, we are the saviors.
Stop playing innocent like a goddamn school girl, get over yourself, and change your ways.
Even a simple hand, may help more than you can imagine, Kicking images up from the dirt.
Flick the clock across the room, and watch as it spins to 1695. Fornicate with sinner priests.

Balance is key, Balance can see, Balance will show you how to be.
Praise the faith, and extract the good parts, every good thing has its faults.
Don’t worry, Don’t’ fret, don’t even worry about yourself.
Your faith is just a ploy, a little squeak toy, compared
to what you think is out there for you and your existence.

You hide in the shadows in the old manor house.
Breathing slightly just to scare away the demons of your past.
You carry nothing but a burned down candle. A metaphor for a light in the dark.
Kabuki masks only take you so far, take them off, they aren’t fooled.
Humanity is a sickness, Humanity is a disease, We should change or be erdaticated.